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EverQuest

In the Beginning
It is said that outside of space and time an entity known only as the Nameless exists, and that this being created all that there is and was and will be. It is also written in ancient texts that from His mind sprang not only the universe and its countless suns and worlds, but also a myriad of sentient, powerful, yet finite creatures whom one such as a man, or elf, or dwarf, would call a god. In aeons past came one of these gods upon the world Norrath.

The Age of Scale
Veeshan, Crystalline Dragon and ruler of the Plane of Sky, found this world pleasing and deposited her brood onto the frozen continent of Velious. With one swipe of her mighty claws, Veeshan opened several great wounds upon the surface of Norrath, staking her claim to this promising new world. Dragons then walked the land and flew the skies, powerful beings of great intellect, wisdom, and strength.

The legends of that time also tell that Veeshan blasted Velious with her breath, encasing it in eternal ice and creating a barrier of deadly ice flows and stormy weather. This marked the beginning of the Age of Scale.

The Age of Scale lasted untold millennia. From the tidbits of information passed down, it is known that a group of dragons mastered magic and spellcasting during this era. Additionally, dragons of power and influence among their kind gathered together and formed a hereditary ruling council known as the Claws of Veeshan, who rule the dragons of Velious to this day. Few of Norrath's inhabitants know more of this Age, and none that do would dare to speak.

The end of the Age of Scale was marked by the Gods creation of the other races of Norrath. Many of Veeshan's vainglorious brood perceived that they might rule over these lesser beings and left Velious. This splinter group became known as the Ring of Scale. Those dragons that remained upon Velious had little interest in temporal power, and were content to pass the millennia in homage to their goddess, and in quiet contemplation and the study of magics.

The Elder Age
In time the other gods noticed Veeshan's work, and being often petty and jealous beings, they too came upon Norrath, intent upon leaving their mark. Brell Serilis was first, and from his Plane of Underfoot, a dark realm of vast caves and endless tunnels, he quietly created a magical portal to a cavern deep in the belly of Norrath. Through this portal the Duke of Underfoot seeded the depths of Norrath with all manner of creatures. Brell then returned home, sealing his portal within a labyrinthine chamber of mystical Living Stone.

And when the other gods came to Norrath, Brell Serilis approached each of them, and after some time convinced them to meet as one to discuss the fate of the world. The Great Mother Tunare, and Prexus, The Oceanlord were in attendance, and Rallos Zek, the warlord, was also there, yet in mistrust kept his distance. Brell, carefully avoiding all queries as to the origins of his information, told of Veeshan's discovery of the new and potentially powerful world in which she had deposited her brood. Words befit of the King of Thieves poured forth from Brell's lips and he proposed that they accept an alliance of sorts, to which all save Rallos Zek agreed, ignorant of the fact that Brell had already released some of his creations into the Underfoot of this new world. The planet that would be called Norrath was divvied up between these beings of power for the purpose of keeping the Dragon Wurmqueen in check. Each would create a race of beings to watch over Norrath and keep a vigilant eye on the schemes of Dragonkind. Brell claimed the bowels of the planet and created the Dwarves, stout and strong, deep beneath the mountains of Norrath. In the abysmal depths of the oceans Prexus left his children, the Kedge, hearty aquatic beings of great mental power and stamina. And on the surface of Norrath did Tunare create the Elves, creatures of limitless grace and beauty, and Rallos Zek the Giants, fierce and formidable beings, intent upon the defense of their lands.

The Age of Monuments
It was inevitable that such energies involved in seeding planets with life would attract even more of the gods, and it was the Elves who drew the unwanted attention of Innoruuk, Prince of Hate. In a decrepit tower overlooking the dark decaying alleys of the Plane over which he ruled, Innoruuk waited, stoking the fire of his Hate until it was a raging inferno. He cursed his fellow gods for not including him in their pact and vowed to make them regret such disrespect. From the halls of the Elves' fair city, Takish-Hiz, the Prince of Hate snatched away the first Elven King and Queen. In his realm of pain and anger he slowly tore them apart, physically and mentally, over the course of three hundred years. He then gathered the quivering remnants of these beings of light and rebuilt them into his own dark sadistic image, a twisted mockery of Tunare's noble children. In depositing the Teir'Dal, as Innoruuk's Dark Elven creations would come to be called, back into the Underfoot of Norrath, the seeds for The Prince of Hate's final revenge were sown. Fizzlethorpe Bristlebane and Cazic-Thule came next to Norrath, and Brell met them, concocting a second pact with these latter gods, wishing another excuse to create more peoples into the world. Rallos Zek again watched from afar, determined to add to his creation as well, and this time Brell convinced the Warlord to join the pact, assuring him that it was indeed an appropriate time to fulfill his desires. Deep in the earth did Brell return to create the gnomes, resembling dwarves to some extent, yet more wiry and gnarled, consumed with tinkering with devices more so than their cousins. On the surface, away from Elves and Giants, Bristlebane made the Halflings, short and stubby folk, agile and with a propensity to meddle and even pilfer at times. Cazic-Thule, Lord of Fear, was drawn to the swamps and jungles of Norrath and there created the green skinned Trolls and reptilian Lizard Men. And Rallos Zek returned to the surface, pleased with his sanction to create even more peoples for his army. He made then the Ogres, massive, unmovable beings of questionable intelligence, and the Orcs, bred for battle and singled-minded in their desire for conquest.

The Fall of Rallos Zek and His Children
By this time, those who are now known as the elder races of Norrath had begun to expand and mature. Villages became cities, and cities became kingdoms. Several of the races became bent on expansion and warfare became part of their developing cultures. And of all the races, it was the Ogres who quickly proved the most interested in battle and plunder, and their empire grew outward from their mountain home until it eventually encompassed a large portion of Tunaria, largest of the known continents. Their knowledge of magic grew as did their greed, until they became weary of only Norrath, and when they learned of other planes and dimensions, invaded the Plane of Earth itself. Rallos Zek watched with pride as his creations challenged the gods of that realm, and when they eventually knew defeat, the Warlord himself led a second invasion. The war that ensued shook the heavens and angered the greater gods. Through their combined might, Rallos Zek was finally thwarted and forced back to his domain, after which a great barrier to the Planes of Power was erected, denying entry to both the lesser gods and mortals as well. And then, in what some view as spite and others justice, the gods cursed the Warlord's creations. Thousands of Ogres were slain and their empire collapsed around them. The Giants were spread from one end of the earth to the other, forced to flee their homes as the gods brought snow and ice to their previously lush lands. And the goblins were also cursed, but no writings remain of their punishment as they no longer keep records of their history (which is perhaps some indication as to the severity of their curse). This is also the time that the Greenmist eradicated the Shissar of Norrath.

As the dust settled, the last of the gods came to Norrath. Mithaniel Marr, god of Valor, and Erollisi Marr, goddess of Love, created the Barbarians, a hardy race who settled the cold and rugged northlands, near the ruins of the Giant empire. Being the youngest race, they were generally unwashed and rugged, possessing very few social graces. And while they too had a warlike culture, there were those amongst them who began to believe in something more. By this time the other civilizations of Norrath had either long since declined, or were well on their way, and this small minority of Barbarians saw an opportunity to triumph where the others had failed. Perhaps this was a seed of wisdom planted by the Marr Twins, or perhaps it was only by chance, but as the Barbarians spread out across the lands, warring with both each other and any other race encountered, this tiny movement continued to grow. And so even amidst desolation and war, there was hope.

The Age of Blood
The last of the old races to decline was the empire of the Elves. The Elddar Forest spread across the entire southeastern quarter of Tunaria. Cities and villages built high into the trees housed thousands of Wood Elves, and the marble cities of the High Elves were built in the forest's clearings and meadows, their white towers and spires climbing out of the forest, higher than the tallest tree. But then came the last curse of the gods, as Solusek Ro, Lord of Flame, arched the spine of the serpent mountains, bringing heat from the burning sun to the ancient forest. The rivers ran dry, it rained less each year, and while the great elven druids fought long and hard, using their powerful magics to combat the change, they could only delay the inevitable. Slowly the forest gave way to desert, and eventually even great Takish-Hiz crumbled and the elves were forced to flee Tunaria, leaving much of their greatness behind.

The Lost Age
This next period of Norrathean history as it relates to many of the races is the least known. It is surmised by the more knowledgeable historians that while the elder races regrouped and reestablished themselves, a small group of Barbarians were suddenly transformed both physically and intellectually. Most believe this to be the last major and direct act of divine intervention, and perhaps the reason so little is known about this period is that the gods wish it to be so, deciding afterwards that they would have less to do with their creations. In any case, this small and enlightened group were the fathers of the Human race, and they rapidly gained a foothold throughout the lands, studying the lost art of geomancy. The Combine Empire, as this lost race of Humans is called, spread throughout the known world, but then died even more quickly than it grew, and for reasons still unknown. And while they are the ancestors of every Human on Norrath and their relics and ruins still litter the lands from Odus to Faydwer, little history of this period remains.

After the fall of the Combine Empire, the remnants of mankind dwelled mostly in the center of Tunaria, inhabiting primarily the vast and fertile plains of Karana. Villages appeared and prospered, several reaching the size of towns, and two even became cities. To the west a strong and noble band of Humans, lead by Antonius Bayle the First, founded Qeynos under the lofty principles of law. Freeport, to the east, became an active and dangerous port of call for all who dared to venture into the Ocean of Tears. Humanity, much to the disdain of the elder races who watched from afar, remained strong, even daring to rename their home after one of their own instead of one of the gods. The great continent of Tunaria would forever more be known as Antonica. This is not to imply, however, that humanity was at peace. Competition was fierce, and when resources grew scarce for one reason or another many groups abandoned the promises and alliances of their past and fought. A few leaders spoke out against the violence, urging the masses to remember why they had fled the cold north. Others reminded them of their former glory and the might of the Combine Empire. These leaders insisted that humanity adhere once again to those principals to which all had agreed. Explorers and adventurers returned from afar with tales of elves, dwarves, and other strange creatures, as well as descriptions of ancient abandoned cities. A few even came back with limited knowledge of sorcery and the mystic arts. And when that discontent minority of leaders heard all of this, they became both jealous and determined.

A small, frail man of great intellect called Erud led this group, and he formed them into a council. They quickly became irritated, even disgusted, by their fellow man. Leaving a small network of spies behind, the remainder of Erud's followers fled the city of Qeynos and boarded a small fleet of ships. They sailed to the west and landed upon the barren coast of the island of Odus. The land was sparse and uninhabited and quite appealing to the council and their people. They quickly built a city of their own, dissimilar in almost every way to both Qeynos and Freeport, for it was almost entirely a towering castle. Erudin it was called, and within it the scribes and scholars, who called themselves High Men, gathered and analyzed reports, captured books and scrolls, and other artifacts brought to them by their spies. The first human mages since the Combine Empire were born – wizards, sorcerers, and enchanters occupied the great halls of Erudin and grew immensely in both power and knowledge.

The Age of Enlightenment
It came to pass some years later that a small group of Erudites discovered the lost art of Necromancy. They were branded heretics and great conflict arose. For the first time in several hundred years, the Erudites fought. They engaged in a civil war not entirely dissimilar to that which they had loathed and fled from back on the mainland. But there was one very significant difference – they did not use swords and bows, but rather magic, and the result was terrible. Lives by the hundreds were lost, great buildings and structures destroyed, and eventually the heretics were forced to flee Erudin, to hide and regroup in the southern regions of Odus. In one final battle, great mystic energies were released and an immense hole leading to unknown depths beneath the earth was created. Into the sides of this chasm the heretics built their own city which they called Paineel. And while both sides still seethed with anger and hatred towards one another, their fear of what the last battle had wrought has kept any further conflict at bay.

The Age of Turmoil
It is in this age you find yourself, an age filled with wonder. The elder races have begun to reclaim their former glory. The younger races have matured, and an active economy stretches across Odus, Antonica, and Faydwer. And while conflict and battle is hardly rare, it has also been centuries since open war has plagued the lands. A myriad of alliances and factions exist, friend and foe plot and scheme, and the world of Norrath is ripe for action. Equip yourself for adventure, seek allies and knowledge, and head out into a rich world of dungeons, towers, crypts, even planes and realities beyond your imagination. Learn skills, earn experience, acquire treasure and equipment, meet friends and encounter enemies. And whether you assume the role of a noble human knight, a vicious dark elf thief, a greedy dwarven merchant, or whatever suits your desire.

Ruins of Kunark

Shissar Kingdom
While the dragons took centuries to grow and organize, a race of intelligent snake men - the Shissar - assumed the forefront. The Shissar were a brutal race who enslaved the Iksar, using Vanusk's ancestors for workers and food. From their capital of Chelsith in what is now The Overthere, they explored dark rites and forgotten evils which would lay the foundation for much of Iksar knowledge and philosophy.

As learned from the rest of Norrath, nothing is permanent. Eventually, the Shissar angered even their own gods. A horrible plague destroyed many Shissar; however, the Iksar survived unscathed. The Greenmist is generally credited to Bertoxxulous during the Fall of Rallos Zek and his Children.

Iksar Nation
Over the next several centuries, the Iksar grew to greatness on the buried ashes of their former masters. They migrated outward across the continent of Kunark and formed five principal tribe-states: Kylong, Nathsar, Obulus, Jarsath and Kunzar. This last tribe-state was led by Venril Sathir, a young and powerful warrior-mage, who raised an unyielding army of undead with the assistance of dark magic.

Sathir and his Kunzar armies conquered and annexed the remaining tribe-states under his rule as the first King of Sebilis, the renamed Iksar nation. In order to build his Sebilisan Empire, Sathir brutally captured and enslaved the Hill Giants, Forest Giants and Froglok of Kunark. Throughout Sathir's life, the Sebilisan Empire quickly grew in might, power and grandeur.

The Rule of Rile
King Sathir aged but, of course he did not want to die.To cheat death, he made an unholy pact with Innoruuk to rise, undead and immortal. Rile, Sathir's heir, had other plans and thwarted the ritual. Sathir's soul was trapped inside an amulet that was hidden away as Rile cremated his father's body.

Rile assumed the throne; however, little changed in the kingdom. The son of Sathir seized more valuable land and his ruthless reputation increased under the terrors of his warlords: Kurn Machta and Karatukus and the vampire, Chosooth. By the time these warlords finished, most of the continent definitely belonged to Sebilis ... all but a few pockets of Giants and Dragons.

The Ring of Scale
The Iksar had left the Dragon lands alone, but their threat was easy to see. The Dragon lords convened the Ring of Scale and argued about how to proceed. Trakanon, a poison dragon, advocated swift intervention on behalf of all races against the Iksar. However, Trakanon was voted down and the Ring of Scale decided to intervene only indirectly.

Trakanon and a number of the younger dragons decided more direct action was required. They conjured a squall at sea that destroyed Rile's warship while the King was on board. This action triggered a spectacular war among the Dragons that lasted for almost a half century. Since the Ring of Scale was, in all likelihood, responsible for the capture of our companion, we were understandably curious to learn as much as we could. Vanusk answered only one question with, "There are lesser dragons that fly across Norrath and pluck candidates for slavery to the Ring of Scale."

Atrebe's Iksar Empire
Atrebe, Rile's first-hatched son, then became King. This young Iksar was different from his father. He was reclusive and enamored of the dark arts. All feared his use of the evil magic of the Shissar and his grandfather, Sathir. His foul experiments joined a dragon with an Iksar, creating the Sarnak, a race of intelligent Dragon-men. He also joined a Dragon with a Froglok, creating flying mounts for his armies, the Sokokar. On these flying beasts, the Iksar were deadly. Soon, only the hardiest Dragonkind stood unconquered by the Sebilisan Empire.

Iksar vs. The Ring of Scale
Over the next half century, Dragonkind struggled against the Iksars' airborne army. Atrebe was succeeded by his son, Ganak, a most capable warrior. The war ended inconclusively over the Field of Bone with aerial duel between Ganak on his Sokokar mount and Jaled-Dar, then leader of the Ring of Scale. Both were incinerated by magic and fire.

The Dragons retreated. But, not before destroying the imperial palace and all Ganak's hatchlings in a daring final blaze of revenge.

The Emerald Circle
Instead of a new king, the Iksar nobles created the Emerald Circle, a body of five nobles who wisely worked to enhance the Iksar cities and trade, rebuild the navy, and return prosperity to the empire. Unfortunately, whenever the ambitions of rulers are involved, strife soon follows and the empire was ultimately divided into the original five tribal-states. Even that treaty was soon forgotten, as the tribes began to wrestle for supremacy over each other. Unbeknownst to the Iksar, the Ring of Scale had also rebuilt and was meddling in every alliance and affair, pitting the tribal-states one against another.

The End of the Sebilisan Empire
The slaves revolted in Sebilis. Goblin lords from Faydwer invaded Kunark. The Giants mustered an army and destroyed the warlord outposts before they attacked the cities. The final destructive attack on the Iksar came when Trakanon and his Dragon allies descended on what was left of the Iksar cities and reduced them to ashes and ruins. The grand Sebilisan Empire was no more. Free from Iksar restraints and rule, all the other races established themselves and began warring amongst themselves in their lust for domination.

Scars of Velious

NERIAK MINISTRY OF INFORMATION

My lord,

In keeping with your request to find out more about Velious and the recent journeys being made there, I dispatched our spies to gather what information they could. We have had some success, and enclosed are transcripts of letters sent by a recent group of travelers to Velious.

While fragmentary and possibly filled with exaggerations, they do shed more light upon this mysterious land. Our spies are to be commended on the excellent performance of their tasks as that getting copies of these letters was by no means easy.

LETTER TRANSCRIPT RECOVERED FROM FREEPORT:

Mentor,

I hope this reaches you before too much time has passed. In my last letter, I told you about securing passage on the gnomish vessel IceBreaker, which had recently begun making voyages from the Northern Desert of Ro to the frozen continent of Velious. Little did I know what was in store for me.

The IceBreaker is not your typical vessel. Built like all things gnomish, it is more about function than form or comfort. I will not bore you with the details of my wretched journey across the Iceclad Ocean. I will also refrain from commenting on the nature of the gnomes who crewed the vessel. Gnomish pirates, indeed!

Having already made several voyages from Antonica, the gnomes established a beach camp and constructed a rudimentary dock. Beyond that, they lacked for almost any real creature comfort. They made a few short forays inland, but mostly, they stuck close to the landing area, trading with a relatively peaceful tribe of gnolls that inhabited the area.

Since my companions and I embarked on this journey for the sake of discovery and adventure, we immediately set forth to explore this frozen land. Venturing west from the landing, we came across a tremendous bridge spanning a huge chasm in the ice. Nothing built by the fabled Combine Empire can compare to this massive construction, seemingly fashioned from the bones of a great dragon!

Across this bridge, and away from the ocean proper, we ran into our first trouble. Giants! And not the giants you may be familiar with. These giants were different. We all know the story about how the giants and other creations of Rallos Zek were cursed by The Rathe for making war upon the gods themselves. That curse does not seem to apply to these creatures, though how they managed to escape divine wrath is still a mystery to me. In any event, they are much more intelligent and organized than their lesser brethren, while every bit as fierce.

We lost two of our party to a small band of these creatures when first we set foot upon the eastern wastes of Velious, and those of us who survived were scattered. Finding myself alone, I was determined to continue my journey westward. Moving most carefully, and using all that I learned in my many years of adventuring, I managed to avoid several more bands of giants as well as war bands of orcs. Eventually, I came in sight of a large keep, obviously built for giants. Not wanting to venture into what I felt would be a very dangerous place; I struck off in the opposite direction.

After several days of travel, I left the realm of the giants and orcs. Though, to my puzzlement, there seemed to be signs of some other inhabitants. Old campfires at first, then cleverly disguised structures built into hillsides, showing signs of recent habitation. Imagine my surprise when while investigating one of these structures, I was confronted by a group of odd pale dwarves! While wary around me, they were not hostile, and were able to converse with me in a colorful dialect of Common. They called themselves the Coldain and agreed to take me to their fortress city of Thurgadin.

Words can not describe this city built under an icy mountain, so I shall not attempt it. Suffice to say that these dwarves are every bit as industrious and hardy as their cousins in Kaladim. I was brought before their king, Dain Frostreaver IV. This mighty warrior welcomed me to his realm, and proceeded to query me for information about the world beyond Velious. In the process, I learned much about Velious itself. The Coldain take a very serious view of their heritage and from very early childhood learn a great deal about their history. It is their firm belief that they were chosen by Brell to inhabit Velious.

During the ancient days when the first city of the dwarves was under construction, dwarves were sent across the lands and sea to find precious reserves of stone, crystal, and ore for the project. Ships sailed in and out by the dozens bringing supplies for the great city. One fleet of such ships sailed across the South of Antonica to reach the island we know as Odus, where a quartz mine was to be set up in the name of the dwarves.

Led by the miner and explorer Colin Dain, the fleet carrying several hundred dwarves ran into one of the worst storms Prexus had ever unleashed. The storm raged on for days as most of the dwarves huddled together in the ships' holds waiting for the seas to calm. When at last the storm passed, they found themselves utterly lost. Even the best of the captains and navigators had no clue as to where they were. The stars in the sky could not be relied upon for navigation, as none of them were recognizable to the dwarves.

Using typical dwarven logic, Colin Dain picked a direction to sail and decided that their only hope was to keep sailing in that direction until they spotted land. As the days and then weeks went by the only noticeable change was that the weather began to get cold. Some nights were so cold that dwarves froze to death on the deck, turned into a statue of ice by the cruel weather.

Only the determination of Colin Dain kept the dwarves' hopes alive as he moved from ship to ship, assuring the dwarves that they would, "Hit land soon. If not tomorrow then the day after." Eventually Colin's words rang true as the dwarves did indeed spot a gigantic white landmass in the distance.

The landing proved to be as deadly as the voyage when icebergs both small and large tore the small fleet apart. Not a single ship made it to shore. Most were torn apart far from the land, and many dwarves met Death at the hands of the ocean. Less than a hundred made it onto an icy beach.

With no serviceable ships, Colin Dain wasted little time leading his people from the shoreline. He knew they would have to find shelter to keep from dying in the cold. He also knew they would need to find wood and other supplies so they could repair their ships and set off for fairer lands. So the quartz miners from the north settled in caves a few miles inland from where they landed. These caves were set into a giant mountain of ice and snow in the northern section of the Eastern Wastes.

There is an old saying that goes, "Dwarves are like time itself, neither can remain idle." This certainly proved true for the new settlement. The miners quickly discovered that the hard packed ice lying beneath the snow of Velious was as durable and malleable as stone, and ideally suited for construction in this frozen land. They would later discover that the ice, known as Velium, had magical properties as well.

Through time the cave settlement became a town, and then a strong dwarven keep began to take shape within the mountain. Named Froststone for the ice out of which it was built, the dwarves knew that with the completion of this keep their stay on this strange new land was permanent. Unfortunately the peace of the dwarves was shattered when they encountered another race upon Velious, the frost giants.

It was with great surprise that the dwarves woke up one day to find their home under siege by an army of giants. The frost giants inhabited the Eastern Wastes and considered those lands their home. They did not take kindly to the puny children of Brell building a fortress along their border. After much battle, the dwarves realized they could not possibly hold out against their large foes.

In desperation, Colin Dain led them from their new home in the Great Divide to the only place they could go - deeper into the mountains. The frost giants pursued, so a small group of dwarves volunteered to stay behind to allow the others to escape. Colin Dain himself led the suicide ambush, buying his people enough time to escape the giants. From this time onward the dwarves would refer to themselves as the Coldain in honor of their beloved leader. Furthermore, the leader of their people would carry the title "Dain."

While hiding out in the frigid caverns a Coldain miner by the name of Glight Snowchipper received a vision from Brell. The vision was of a labyrinth of ice where the dwarves could hide from the frost giants. In the narrow passageways, it was hoped that the giants would become lost and fall into the many traps the dwarves would construct. Glight presented his idea to Dain Frostreaver, the son of Colin Dain, who began construction of the labyrinth. The Crystal Caverns were completed in a little under half a century. The speed of the project alone was proof to the Coldain that Glight had indeed been inspired by Brell. These caverns of Crystal would be the salvation of the Coldain race.

The true test of the caverns worth came nearly thirty years later, when by following a party of Coldain, the frost giants discovered the location of the Crystal Caverns. Slagd Frozentoe of the frost giants led the invasion force of warriors to the cavern, hoping to wipe the hated Coldain from Velious once and for all. Glight Snowchipper, in the fashion of Colin Dain, led the defense, drawing the frost giants deep into the confusing caverns. His magical pickaxe, aptly named Snowchipper, felled many a giant as the dwarves struck repeatedly from hidden passages and around shadowy corridors.

Despite losing most of his force, Slagd and the remaining giants almost made it to the Coldain city in the center of the caverns when Glight pulled off his greatest and final trick. Thousands of tons of ice and stone crashed into Slagd and his remaining giants after Glight and a few of his brave miners led them down a false passage. Unfortunately it was an act of self-sacrifice as Glight and his fellows were also buried in the avalanche. The miners of Thurgadin still call themselves Snowchippers, in honor of Glight.

Over the next few centuries strange creatures began migrating into the Crystal Caverns. It was these foes and more which eventually caused the dwarves to abandon the caverns and set out to build a new fortress more akin to Frostkeep. I was cautioned to avoid the old caverns, as they still hold many dangers.

The Coldain retreated even deeper into the Great Divide. Led by Dain Frostreaver II, they founded the city of Thurgadin, or New Froststone.

Constructed on the northern edge of the Great Divide, Thurgadin lies within a glacial mountain rich with untouched supplies of velium and other ores. The outer region of the city is carved into the ancient glacial ice, while the inner region pierces the mountain rock where the precious ores are mined.

The Coldain are determined not to lose this home. Thurgadin is built in a very defensive manner, with passage through long tunnels lined with murder holes being necessary to get to the inner city. At the heart of the city lies Icewell Keep, where the Dain and his council of advisors reside and where he granted audience to me.

Surrounding the castle are the forges and shops that make up the mainstay of Coldain commerce. Mines burrow deeper into the mountains, some ending in cleverly hidden and easily collapsible escape hatches for easy access into the Great Divide. I have used my meager cartography skills to fashion a map of Thurgadin, which I am sending you with this letter.

I have decided to reside in Thurgadin for a time, to better get to know my hosts, and to assist them in rejoining the community of beings of Antonica and Faydwer. I feel very secure here in this mountain stronghold, and I think there is much to accomplish.

As always,
Solist Kinslan

LETTER TRANSCRIPT RECOVERED FROM HALAS:

McTarnigal,

Took the gnome ship, the trip was bad. Ship was too cramped, not built for a Halasman. What is, outside of Halas? Made it to Velious with a strong group of Southrons. Weather was fine, looks like a nice place, plenty to eat, and plenty to fight. Not enough to drink, stupid gnomes lost all the rum.

Went inland, saw a strange tower, steered clear of it, it reeked of sick magic. Found a large bridge. Would not want to defend it, too big. Crossed the bridge, good country there. Looks like an excellent place to live. Found Kromrif here too. Thought frost giants were all dead. They are not.

Party was ambushed by Kromrif war band, some died, and others ran. I fought. Clubbed till I went black. Woke up being carried into giant fortress. Saw banners of Lord Rallos, gave homage. Kromrif saw this, nodded.

Taken to true leaders of city. Kromzek. Storm giants are still alive, and still strong. Someone should hit Margyn McCann over the head, her lore is wrong.

The King of Kromzek, Tormax, asked me many questions. Found out Kromzek and Kromrif escaped the curse. Kromrif are warring with ice dwarves to the north. Kromzek are trying to expand west, fighting a savage forest claimed by Tunare. They also fight Dragons. Very bad blood between the Velious dragons and Kromzek. Tormax sits on the bones of a dragon queen his sire killed.
Tomorrow I go out with a war band of Kromzek and Kromrif, heading west through forest to a dragon shrine, to do battle there. May Zek give me strength.

I am giving this letter to a Kromrif who is going east, to hand to the gnomes. Tell the warriors of Halas that Rallos Zek is strong here. Many chances for battle and conquest. Bring your own beer.

Breen Everblood.

LETTER TRANSCRIPT RECOVERED FROM QEYNOS:

Hanns,

When I get back to Qeynos, I'm going to knock a few of your teeth out. I'm still not sure how you convinced me to make this trip, though I'm thinking Crow's Special Brew had something to do with it.

Leaving the new dock in North Ro, I took a launch that carried me out to the Iceclad Ocean. There I boarded IceBreaker, a so-called ship constructed by the gnomes. Several other people had booked passage for this voyage and were awaiting my arrival, including my comrades Tolan, Breen, and Solist.

It wasn't a fun trip. The ship's hammers were constantly clanking and banging, those blasted gnomes were making silly pirate noises, and it was cold. It nearly drove me crazy.

We finally made landing at a beachhead the gnomes constructed, but found little in the way of luxuries. The gnomes even managed to misplace the horrible rum that kept us warm during the voyage. And before you ask, I had nothing to do with that misplacement.

After looking around the landing, the group of us decided to head west, beyond the area the gnomes had explored. We passed quite a few interesting sights, and a tower I really wanted to inspect, but Solist and Breen both said to avoid it, so we continued on. After crossing a bridge that was so high it made even me dizzy, our luck ran out.

A group of well-organized giants took us by surprise. Deciding discretion was called for, I managed to duck out of the battle when it was obvious we were losing. Several people, including Solist, managed to escape, while Breen went down fighting, buried under a pile of giants. After the dust settled, I saw the giants carrying Breen off to the southwest and decided to follow them.

After a few hours of sneaking along, I was startled by a voice behind me. Tolan! The clever ranger had escaped the giant ambush the same way I had, and was tracking the giants and me across the wastes. We continued to follow the giants, and eventually came to a great fortress city.

With luck and skill, the two of us managed to sneak inside the city. We tried to find Breen, but there was no way to know for sure where he had been taken. The chance of getting caught was high, since the place was crawling with giants. We eventually passed through the city itself, and found ourselves on the edge of a huge forest.

The giants were working hard to push the forest back, but according to Tolan, they weren't doing well. He said he felt great power in the woods, stronger even than the heart of Faydark. I didn't question his statement; I could feel the life here myself. At Tolan's urging we left the giant city behind and traveled on through the forest. Tolan grew more and more excited, saying he felt we were nearing something amazing.

Tolan's woods lore gave us no warning when a group of strange flying creatures suddenly appeared. Finding ourselves quickly captured, we were trussed, blindfolded, and gagged. We were carried to the heart of the forest where a gathering of beings awaited us. They would not speak to me. But they jabbered with Tolan for a long while in a strange language.

Again I was blindfolded and carried through the forest. After some time I was put down and my bonds cut. I was at the edge of a clearing, facing the giant city. Tolan was there, unbound and smiling. He told me I should make my way back to the Iceclad Ocean. I wasn't welcome in this land, and to go any further west would be a bad idea. Dragons would kill me if I entered the shrine they had built on the other side of the forest. That is if I made it that far, since there was always the chance that the forest creatures would decide to have me for lunch.

When I asked Tolan what he was going to do, he said he would be staying there for a time as a guest. He was a grown man; I assume he knew his own business. Not wanting to overstay my welcome, I took Tolan's advice and said goodbye. I went back through the giant city (still no sign of Breen), across the wastes, and eventually, back to the shores of the Iceclad Ocean, where I sit now.

I'm going to head back out again soon to look for Breen, Solist, and the others. I wouldn't feel right abandoning them at this point, and besides, it could turn out to be profitable.

Regards,
Mrylohar

As you can tell by reading the transcripts, there is much more to Velious than we first imagined. The war among the dwarves, giants and dragons, suggests great opportunity for us, if we choose our allies carefully.

If you have any further questions, you need only ask, and I shall endeavor to find answers for you.

Your humble vassal,

Ryoz K`Tarn
Master Coercer

Shadows of Luclin

The Tainting of an Empire
Tsaph Katta, Imperator of the troubled Combine, was holding a grand state banquet. Almost all nations and tribes were in attendance. The dwarven, gnomish and elven allies had ambassadors on hand as did the belligerent Tier'dal. Even the ogres and trolls were represented. All who received an invitation felt compelled to attend, such was the power and might of the Combine.

As the guests entered the banquet hall, Katta was there to receive them. One guest came with a smile on his lips and poison in his hand. He had dusted his glove with empolomine, a slow-killing, hallucination-inducing drug. This guest extended his hand as Tsaph welcomed him to the banquet. With this handshake, the fate of the Combine was changed.

The Vigil
Katta's reaction was more rapid and violent than most and he collapsed during the dinner, appearing as one possessed. Possessed by evil, some muttered.

The banquet hall was cleared, and only a trusted few were allowed to remain. As Katta lay on the floor, dying, he spoke his last breath into the ear of his closest advisor, a fellow bard named Lcea. The druids then came and wove stasis spells to keep him alive, and put a sleep charm on him so that he would not have to endure pain or suffering. Then the elves of the forest came and took Tsaph away, to hide him within their realm so that no further attempts on his life would be possible.

As soon as word spread around the world that Katta was "dead", the Combine broke into a thousand tainted pieces. The petty disagreements that had shattered the world before his coming resumed with even more passion. The elves continued to keep watch over the resting place of Tsaph Katta while a few loyal officials, led precariously by Lcea, fortified the Loyalists last remnants.

Lcea brought the brightest minds of the Loyalists together to decide on their grim future. Their situation on Norrath was precarious and any hopes of rebuilding here were dashed while all the infighting was still occurring. Gathered in a room together, exhausted by debate, they glanced, as one, upward through the darkness.

There, high in the evening sky, was the familiar sight of Luclin. But something was different about the moon this evening. It shone more brightly and with more detail than ever before. The rings wrapped the moon in fire as the waning sunlight pierced them. Beyond the rings, Lcea and others could see blurry cloud formations and sparkling reflections that hinted at bodies of water.

Lcea stood up and raised her hand to the moon, "That is where we will rebuild."

The Great Exodus
And so it was decreed that Luclin would be the new home of the Loyalists. The Combine already possessed vast knowledge of teleportation. Using this knowledge on a grander scale would be the solution to their problem.

All they had to do was wait. In a few months Luclin would pass directly over the largest Combine spire located in Kunark, providing both the focus and the timing needed to complete this mystical feat.

If they failed, the Loyalists would fall and any hope of building their version of the Combine would be lost. It was essentially a costly, all-or-nothing attempt to save their way of life.

The night had come, and thousands had gathered to participate in perhaps one of the greatest magical events in mortal history.

Slowly Luclin approached its perigee. The mages began to chant and motion in the air. Glowing strands of mana poured from them, twined together, and circled the magnificent spires. A magical wind slowly picked up and swirled upward around the spires, taking the mana with it. With one last burst of magical energy, a great ball of light enveloped the spires and then exploded outward in a flash. A moment later, the light and everything it illuminated were gone.

Focus Redirected
The bright light had winked out, leaving nothing but a black void in its wake. Moments later, flickering lights began to appear all around as torches were lit. Above the refugees, where the fiery rings of Luclin should have been, was cold dark stone. They were not on the surface of Luclin, but deep in the center of the moon itself. The air grew heavy with tension and fear as thoughts of being trapped underground filled everyone's head.

As fires were lit and magical light sources were set around the group, it became clear that they had been deposited in a vast cavern system located near the center of the moon.

Off to one side of the encampment on a stone island was a large black sphere of swirling mist. The sphere emanated a strong magical field that seemed to pull everything towards it. This sphere, they felt, was most likely responsible for the failed teleport to the surface.

But what was it? And what was its purpose?

Thoughts Divided
Over the following weeks an encampment grew in the cave while scouts ventured into the surrounding caverns. They gathered as much information as possible about the cave system in hopes of learning more about their predicament. During this time they located several caves that extended upward towards the surface, though further exploration ruled most of them out as possible exits. Some were just too dangerous and lacked the resources needed to sustain life. Two, however, showed a lot of potential for supporting a civilization.

With the choice of which path to take narrowed down, another problem was encountered. A good number of those who had come to Luclin were now having second thoughts about leaving Norrath. Even if they managed to build an empire here, how would they return to Norrath to sow those seeds?

The Parting
It was time for a decision to be made. Those who wished to develop a means of transport back to Norrath would stay in the caverns and those wishing to rebuild the Combine Empire on Luclin determined to go to the surface and do just that. Those remaining would be in considerable danger, as they feared the opposing elements of the fractured empire would surely have the ability to bring an army to Luclin. It was just a matter of time.

And so it happened. The majority gathered their belongings and joined the caravan to the surface. The remaining few set to the task of building a city and developing the necessary tools to create a working portal to Norrath.

A New Start
Those who remained below were few in number, less than a thousand, but in those few were some of the most skilled craftsman and brightest mages. They carved stone and minerals from the caverns to construct their homes and workshops. The mages researched and studied the black sphere in hopes of learning of its origin and inner workings. The area that held the sphere soon became known as The Nexus.

An Enemy's Search
It happened sooner than expected. The air within the Nexus became electrically charged and mist began to swirl around the black sphere. Something was coming through. Within moments, an army began to arrive. Those who were researching the Nexus were on hand to meet the arriving army. Tensions were high between the two parties. Although the residents here no longer sided with the Loyalists, the new arrivals were unaware of that.

However, it seemed they were just as surprised to find someone on the other side of the portal. In addition, the people remaining at the Nexus had not been idle. Fortifications and guards prevented the newcomer army from simply seizing control of the area.

After a period of time, the officers of the invading army met with the officials of the Nexus. The people of the Nexus protested that they simply wanted to go back to Norrath and not get involved with the Combine dispute, and made this very clear. The new arrivals wished to chase down the remaining Loyalists and then to return to Norrath. They were shocked to learn that there was no way to return to Norrath as yet.

Not comfortable remaining in what was possibly enemy territory, the dedicated and committed members of the army set off to build a strong-hold of their own. They went opposite the way the Loyalists had gone. Building a new fortress, they would have time to organize and prepare to engage the Loyalists. Many were ordered to stay with those who were researching the Nexus, for the leader of the army refused to give up hope on returning to Norrath. And so the town numbers nearly doubled with the added researchers.

The newest residents of the underground city segregated themselves and created their own little settlement right next to the one already there. An invisible boundary was the only thing that separated them.

A Strong Foothold
The construction of the cavern settlement continued along with the research. As time passed, the differences between the two factions of researchers dissipated and they worked more closely together each day. Perhaps, they thought, only with a combined effort would they have a chance to reopen the portal to Norrath and return home. At this time, a number of families who had played important roles in either the construction of the city or in the research of the black sphere became very prominent in the city workings.

It was time to make their little settlement a city. A general council meeting was held with the heads of families and owners of shops attending. They elected a group of council members who would decide on a political structure for the city. Because of the diversity of those who came to the city and the different times at which they arrived, it was decided that a general council would run the city. A name was also chosen from a list of those proposed.

The word Fordel was a name taken from a family survived by only a widow. The entire family was lost in a scouting party during the first couple of months on Luclin. Previous to the loss, their family had been one known for great craftsmanship; they had played a vital role in the city's original construction. For that, the community honored them by immortalizing their name in the city they helped construct.

The word Midst was taken from a long line of mages who researched the great portal on Norrath to bring them to Luclin and continued to this day on the research for a way to return. Many a mage carrying this family name had spent long hours probing and writing by candlelight in service to the community. For that, the community honored them in their city's name.

The name was to be "Fordel Midst", and it would ever be their haven from the shadows

The following supplement largely copied from Nadia's reconstruction of the information in the Luclin manual.

The Shissar are the first known Norrathians to reach Luclin. They were great and powerful and at some point angered their/the gods who laid the smack down. Most of the Shissar were killed quickly but a few escaped to Luclin. There is some speculation that the Shissar built the Wizard teleportation spire network - which is how they pissed off the gods, by learning how to access alternate planes. It would make sense that they reached the Nexus first and maybe built the spires around there - not the return or ShadowHaven spires, I'd say. Fearing more retribution, they fled to the surface and eventually to the Scarlett Dessert where they created a magical dome and sucked out all the air. Inside there they built a fortress where they remain to this day. As far as I know, they have pulled themselves away from all politics of those who don't enter their lands. They seem to rather keep to themselves mostly, probably out of fear of further divine vengence. Some speculate that the Shissar are involved in the quest to open the gates to Vex Thal. If that is not just simple rumor, that implies some deep connection with the heaviest secrets of the moon, possibly even Luclin herself who argueably has some interest in them since she let them remain on her moon when the other gods had given them a death sentence.

The Combine Empire
The Combine Empire was having problems, trying to split itself apart by a man by the name of Tpash Katta became Imperator and pulled everyone back together. Also during this time, another man by the name of Seru came to power with his own group - the Inquisition - set to rout out all evil and corruption in the Empire. When Seru saw that Katta wanted to include all races - even Dark Elves - into the Empire, he arranged to assassinate Katta - but the outcome of that isn't fully known. Katta was indead poisoned but there is speculation if he died right away, died later, lives on in magical suspended animation, or recovered. Right away his good friend and advisor Lcea took his place. Lcea led the followers of Katta - the Loyalists - away from their attackers - the followers of Seru. Eventually, they could only see on option of escape; Lcea noticed Luclin was closer than normal and it looked like it harbored a liveable ecosystem; so using their most powerful magics, they transported up from the Dreadlands spires to the Nexus - but found themselves trapped with no way back. Part of the Loyalists took off through the caves to find the surface and set up fortications before Seru followed; the other part decided they wanted to go home and set up a colony near the Nexus to try to research a way back. Soon enough the Seruites came to the Nexus but they too were trapped. The hardcore Inquisitors took off down different tunnels to build their own fort city while others stayed behind to join the researchers from the Loyalists to find a way back to Norrath. Those who stayed behind later forgot their differences and started the city of ShadowHaven and control the Nexus in complete neutrality.

The Seruites themselves seemed to have tried to build a spire home; they built the dead spires in Mons Lethalis. However those didn't work and unleashed a horde of twisted demons on them. I don't know of any further project they have. The Loyalists ended up blaming the Geomancer Grieg for getting them up there with no way back; they drove Grieg out of their city and he fled over the sea to build a castle on the edge of the Scarlett Dessert. There he hoped to find a way back home for his people but for some reason, Luclin did not like this idea. It's not been said if she did it to keep them on her moon or if she did it as punnishment for their arrival, but the goddess herself is said to have driven Grieg mad and twisted his caslte into a madhouse.

The Vah Shir
The last group of Norrathians to come up to the moon in ages past were the Vah Shir. They used to live on Odus as the nobels of the entire cat race. The Kerrans of Kerra Ridge say that when the Erudites first came, the cats welcomed them in peace but soon the Erudites began to look down upon, persucute, and push out the cats - like how the Europeans did to the Native Americans. Here the story isn't clear - there are several histories, probably based on propaganda. Some say the Erudites of Erudin tested a great weapon on the Vah Shir's capital city to help get rid of the cats. Others say the civil war had already begin and the city was blasted away during the war - either by the Erudites trying to test a weapon or attack the Heretics, or by the Heretics trying to test a weapon or get rid of the cats to create a home for themselves. Either way, the Vah Shir city was blown into the sky - and into orbit - and the Hole was formed. The Vah Shir magically survived a crash-landing on the dark side of Luclin. Their new city is built in that crator. By this time the Combine Loyalists should already have been here, and they make treaties with Katta Castelum and ShadowHaven for trade and travel. The Vah Shir began to mine the Aecrylia ore from the mountains of the dark side to build their city - however the Grimlings in recent times took over the mines and have gone to war with the Vah Shir.

Planes of Power

The Gathering In The Fog
A group of robed figures cuts through the dense fog that fills the corridors surrounding the library. At this hour, the night air smells of fog and the harbor that cradles the immaculate white city. Another gray-clad shape emerges from the portal, silhouetted by its blue luminescence. The figure glides down the stairs and nods at a passing sentinel as he makes eye contact and smiles. He then quickly makes his way into the structure that stands before the portal. The carved marble sign mounted to the wall of the structure is legible in the faint blue light: "Temple of Divine Light."

The robed group stops before the temple's gold-inlaid door, waiting in silence. The fog and the faint blue glow turn them into ghosts, haunting the temple hoping for some word of release. Release and salvation are thoughts that ride through the air tonight, but our figures are not thinking of themselves.

It isn't long before the scene is shattered by a burst of candlelight as the temple door opens. Figures in the doorway bow quickly to each other, and the gray robed individual steps back into the corridor. His eyes meet those that lie just below the cowls of the gray robes that stand before him.

"It is time for us to begin," he says in a voice almost as featureless as his face and garb. "They have annotated the locations for me on the map. Our journey begins once the others are informed. All of you, be cautious but quick."

The hooded apparitions nod in response, in almost perfect unison. The speaker's hands quickly articulate, calling into existence a small, shimmering blue star. The star blinks and expands, becoming a sparkling ring framing what looks like a picture of another place. The figures step through the portal, their gray robes seeming out of place on the green grass of the picture they have become part of.

A brief blue glow is all that remains moments later, and it quickly fades. As a roaming sentinel walks around the corner, the air finally settles. She tilts her head in the hope of catching the noise again. She could have sworn by Prexus that she heard someone recite a phrase that will only carry meaning much later in her life…

"May the Name find a tongue and may the Balance be met…"

The Rainkeeper
Karana sat quietly contemplating the recent turn of events. His head and his heart had been tormented for some time, mulling over the possibilities that lay before him. He had largely avoided directly affecting the destinies of mortals in the past. Even the influence of Bertoxxulous on his namesake plains on Norrath did not draw any action from the Rainkeeper. This is somehow different though. The influence of the pantheon has already reached far beyond any bounds they reached in the past. But of course, the birth of a new demi-god would have that effect. Karana could feel the inevitable tugging at his being toward intervention. But the Rainkeeper does nothing out of reflex or rage. This problem must be meditated upon before any sort of action could be taken, and time was something he had plenty of for the moment.

Karana called out to his faithful servant Askr. Askr had been Karana’s companion ever since he washed up on the shores of Larquin in the Plane of Storms. It was rare that a mortal would survive any sort of terrestrial storm that was strong enough to open a rift to the realm of the Rainkeeper. Rarer still that he would retain his mind and body so well as Askr had. He remembered little of his existence on Norrath, but knew the name of the Rainkeeper and had served him well over the last hundred years. Karana handed Askr a great medallion. He hated to distance himself from Askr this way, but there was no other way to achieve the state of deep meditation that he would need to see the ramifications of his decision. Without a word Karana raised his staff into the air and summoned down a great lightning bolt. The Rainkeeper disappeared in a blinding flash, leaving only Askr standing silently at the base of the towers of the Bastion of Thunder.

Askr stood there for a moment quietly and looked down at the medallion in his hand. “There can be no good to come of this,” he whispered. He then turned to look up at the raging winds surrounding the Bastion. They already seemed to swirl faster, unbridled by the presence of the Rainkeeper.

Karana entered his study quietly and sat down on a large oak chair. His meditations had not gone well thus far. The rifts to the mortal realm that had been created settled heavily on his conscious, clouding his clairvoyance and darkening his insight. The future was entirely unclear to him for the first time. He found it unsettling. He stood and walked over to the shallow pool in the center of his study and felt the stiff breeze and cool rain that blew in from the open ceiling. He sat down in the quiet water and drifted slowly into a fitful trance. His mind drifted at first slowly across the dark clouds that hid the future from him, but gradually picked up speed as his senses grew accustomed to navigating the darkness. He drifted through the clouds now at a blinding pace. Visions of the past raced by, partially hidden by the darkness of the clouds, mixing endlessly with portraits of the infinite futures that might exist. He could feel himself losing some of his control on the path he was taking. He tried to slow his descent into the darkest parts of his mind but found himself hurtling ever faster into the infinite darkness. He looked down, trying to focus on something, anything discernable from the chaotic swirl of his memory. Finally one thing began to coalesce from the swirling storm around him. First the outline of a single pair of eyes, then a nose, then a great white beard solidified before him. The enormous face began to laugh as Karana’s consciousness started to understand the vision below him. Just as recognition met with consciousness the great face flew up and consumed the screaming essence of Karana’s mind, leaving nothing but the jaded, sneering face of Agnarr behind…

Burglaries in the Night
The cities of Norrath are so varied in beliefs and populace that they rarely find a common relationship outside of the bonds that seem to eventually bring all things that walk upright together… desire, deceit, and conflict. As the morning climbed its way across Norrath it brought with it a message, a message that would affect individuals in a manner that unified them for a brief, fleeting moment.

One of those individuals was a rogue. He was discovered hiding atop an air duct in the Library Mechanimagica. The Eldritch custodian found the Human thief among the littered remnants of a hurried, but very precise search. His insistence that he was not responsible is contrary to his inability to describe the person he claims to have seen looting the place. His apparent surprise that someone would break into such a place only to remove a book or two join him to others that have made similar claims this day.

In Cabilis, the Keepers Grotto is discovered in a similar state, as is the Great Library in the City of High Men and Knowledge. These are not the only locations. In every city, on every continent, scholars and keepers of lore find themselves speaking to their sentries and servants in the hope of garnering an answer. All they find is that as words and whispers travel their questions become more complex, leaving them to explore a web of intricate, yet nebulous possibilities.

The select few will only recall one blurred memory of an oddity. For some it will be a faint recollection of a conversation with a face whose features they can't recall. For others perhaps it will be a brief discussion about books, or libraries, or a place that might hold some ancient piece of lore. The only thing that seems to stick is an image of a figure, or maybe it was several figures, with faces without features and clothing without adornment. Each the antithesis of memorable, participating in an exchange that left a residue in the mind like a name you can't recall.

The only thing that any of these individuals can remember is that they spoke to someone who mentioned that time was short… and that the person was dressed almost entirely in gray.

Scorn of Drunder
The hulking figure brooded silently over a table piled high with arcane maps and cryptic diagrams. An unnatural red fire blazed in the great stone brazier in the center of the circular room. Shadows danced on the walls, and the figure's silhouette seemed to flicker back and forth between the shape of a massive, armored man and that of a brutal, four-legged beast. His thick fingers drummed the handle of a giant flaming axe that hung at his side; his jaw tensed and he ground his teeth.

"Why, Tallon?" he growled.

A smaller figure near the open doorway flinched slightly, rattling the mighty war bow that hung on his back against the wall. "The one I spoke to," Tallon began, steeling his voice with false confidence, "he - well, he blamed the delay on the interference of a group of mortals."

The fingers that drummed the flaming axe stopped. Silence filled the room. The fire ceased to crackle and its warmth retreated, leaving the room suddenly cold. Tallon felt the other's eyes, two pinpricks of blue flame, boring a hole through him.

"I do not understand why we rely on the help of these fools!" Tallon finally blurted out. "The Diaku requires no assistance to complete our goals."

In a flash, his protests were silenced as an invisible force lifted and snatched him from across the chamber. Tallon squirmed before the hulking figure, his throat locked in a grip of iron.

"We use them because I dictate it," replied the figure calmly. White-hot arcs of flame erupted from his fist and seared Tallon's face, leaving blistered trails across his cheeks and lips. "Now," continued the figure, "you will take care of this personally. I will accept no further delays."

Tallon struggled to speak. "I will…father…" he choked out finally. The clenched gauntlet at his throat relaxed and Tallon crumpled to the floor, gasping.

"Get out of my sight."

Tallon struggled toward the doorway. As he crawled out into the adjacent hall he looked back at his father.

He was again studying his maps. With a casual wave of the figure's enormous hand a stone slab slammed into place, sealing the doorway.

Contemplation
Fahlia silently sat on the ocean's edge. The aurora danced with its reflection, giving the horizon a mesmerizing effect. The rhythmic sounds of the shore and the smooth whir of the windmill's gears gave the aurora the music it needed to make the scene complete. Yet, even with a scene as meditative as the one that moved before her, Fahlia's mind continued to race.

Conflict and conspiracy have always existed. However, the scale and nature of what was transpiring proved to be very unsettling. There was some reassurance in the knowledge that their efforts had paid off so far. Other than the trip to Kaesora and the assault on the Libraries of Chardok, they had experienced very little opposition while collecting materials for the elders. This was partially due to the fact that so many people were collaborating with them. Fahlia found it hard to fathom that so many people were looking for the same answers. It was even harder to believe that these people were willing to risk the same punishment should they be discovered.

The elders and scholars were working at that moment to decipher the documents that had been gathered. Perhaps those tomes and texts would give them some insight, some clue about what they should do next. For now, she could only wait for her next assignment and hope that destiny had some plan for them. Fahlia couldn't help but wonder if he was out there, watching them with some understanding of the tale that was about to unfold.

Just as that final thought filled her mind, a voice disrupted the peaceful scene.

"Fahlia, the elders have called for us again. It seems they have located the last four. We must move to meet them at once."

The speaker's voice was unnaturally deep for someone with such a diminutive stature. He reached out to help her to her feet and added, "You'll be needing some extra cover to take with you, lass. It's quite cold where we're heading."

Shadows & Decay
The feeling of revulsion worked its way through the messenger's body and made its presence known in the form of a stammer. The fact that he could speak at all could be attributed to the powerful warding spells and protective runes that covered his body. They glowed brightly beneath his robe and seared his flesh as their magic expended itself. The messenger prayed that this conversation would end swiftly. Should the protective magic falter and expose him to the horror that he felt moving in the air around him, he would surely rot instantaneously.

"Speak with haste, lest you wish to be consumed on the spot. I am confident that my rending of one of his curs would do little to change our arrangement. What do you think, wretch? Would your master mind if I sent you back to him in a pail?"

The grotesque entity spoke with a voice that mocked the mortal tongue. Its voice spewed forth, as if the words would cause the listener's ears to fill with a rotting liquid. Each word was coated in filth.

"No Suh… Sire… I am nothing and no one. I am merely a vessel for the word of Innoruuk. My liege has sent me to you with a message," the young courier said, as his pallor grew more apparent.

A hand extended from the shadows and pointed its rotting finger at the courier. The voice sloshed forward from the darkness again, "Then deliver your message, wretch… before your master is forced to send another."

The trembling messenger dropped to his knees and began to convulse. The symbols covering the Tier 'Dal's flesh glowed brightly and began to dance in the filthy air of the room. The symbols slowed their pace and began to gather in front of the massive rotting god. They shifted and aligned until they read like an ethereal piece of parchment.

The room grew silent, as the hulking figure contemplated the symbols' meaning. Then the silence was quickly broken by a roar followed by the swing of Bertoxxulous's great rotting arm. Both the symbols and the messenger were swatted and sent flying though the air.

"Am I expected to be concerned with the meddling of mortals? This problem has already been dealt with. Nothing can change what has been done! Leave this place and tell your master that I will have no more talk of this matter!" the creature roared at the slumped figure.

As the messenger ran from the room he could hear the words being shouted again, "Nothing can change what has been done!"

The Meeting
The murmuring voices in the room propel Fahlia's memories back to her first frigid meeting with the drakes near the massive temple in the wastes. She remembers her awe at the power of the place that could produce creatures learned enough to open rifts that reach beyond anything most mortals could comprehend. Perhaps the drakes would be protected from the fate that has befallen many of the island's inhabitants, she had thought. It was impossible to tell if the portals were harming the channelers, or if the gods were showing their first hints of retaliation.

"Time has accelerated," announces the elder over the din. "Uncertainty, fear, anticipation, and now this…. Perhaps the bounds have been overstepped. Now, the answer is hurtling toward us with no regard for our ability to face it. We cannot turn back!"

Fahlia sits listening with the young bard's head cradled in her lap. His face is flushed; drops of sweat collide and form a stream as he convulses in pain. Fahlia's mind is focused on the elder's words, but her heart stays with the tormented young man in her arms.

"Once the portals are opened, our fates will be locked into place. No one can predict what may happen from this point. The memories of our efforts may soon fade, our legacy buried beneath the blowing ashes of a mortal miscalculation. Or the heavens may find themselves ablaze, engulfed in the power of their own creations!

"We may never find the answers we seek. The canvas of reality may burn and tear. Yet, we must move forward! It is the only direction left for us to follow. We will find the One Teacher. Question not the wills of those who shall soon come to walk with us, but be mindful of the possibility of treachery and watch their every action. It should not take long to spot the fellowship that we seek, for soon the heroes of prophecy will walk within our ranks

"Now go and prepare. Soon the morning mists will lift to reveal the portals to a new age. The Age of Balance is nearly upon us.

With this, the elder walks from the large room and allows it to return to being an infirmary for the casualties of the new age.

The Book and the Pedestal
The night slowly pulls its face from Norrath, leaving only the dewy residue of its dark kiss. Creatures scurry to find a shady resting place to wait out the day, and the inhabitants of all the cities of man awaken. It will be hours yet before these cities become fully aware of their newest landmarks, the portals in the form of stone pedestals that litter the face of Norrath’s landscape.

Most days begin, fade, and end, all part of the slow blur that makes up the common life. Sometimes a clear path will present itself and lead its follower astray from that common life. This path comes to its traveler in a variety of forms: the magic in a child's first book; the promise of a couple’s first glance; the hero's first step into the dank mouth of some forgotten cave. All these things can break the blurry cycle of the day and yield adventure

This morning will present to the citizens a new path, a path in the form of a portal--a path that will forever change their lives.

Legacy of Ykesha

Chapter 1 - Prophecy of Grozmok
In the Elder Age the trolls followed one god: Cazic Thule, their creator. They grew and evolved under his guidance, and the blood of Fear beat strong through their hearts. The unity of the trolls was broken when Innoruuk, the Prince of Hate, touched a young troll mystic named Zraxth.

Zraxth's deviation from the followers of Cazic Thule was small at first. He would gather small groups of other mystics in secluded camps far away from the troll cities. There they would perform ceremonies to channel their hatred, and through it give power to the trolls who were being oppressed by the dominant forces of the Rallosian armies. Hatred drove the trolls, making them more bloodthirsty and savage, but their might was still not enough to confront the will of the Ogre Empire that dominated Southern Tunaria. Zraxth saw that his efforts were futile, and asked his new lord, Innoruuk, when the trolls would see the power they were promised. The knowledge he sought came with a price; Innoruuk demanded a blood tithe in exchange for a vision. Zraxth was instructed to slay the high priests of Cazic Thule so their blood could be used to grant him foresight.

Zraxth and his followers did as the Prince of Hate demanded. Cloaked by the night, he and his disciples crept into the camps of their brethren and killed every elder priest to yield the blood to be used in the rite. The blood of their kin on their hands, Zraxth and his disciples set about performing the rituals described in Innoruuk's instructions. A great stone tablet was brought before Zraxth, and the ceremony began. Zraxth meditated for days without sleep or food, trying to transcend his mortal mind and see what Innoruuk had promised him.

On the eighth day, Zraxth spoke. The disciples tried in vain to record his words but found that no ink would hold them; the words ran like quicksilver off their parchments.. Zraxth, still in a deep trance, took the stone and began to record his words with the elder's blood and a chisel made from their bones. As he laid each symbol into the stone, it blazed with dark flames and then settled. As the stone cooled, the disciples saw that the words appeared as though they had always been a part of the stone, rather than carved and painted into it.

Zraxth's visions foretold the coming of the Grozmok. The Grozmok would be the greatest of all trolls and would unite the troll clans through Fear and Hate. Through his knowledge of war and magic he would topple the empires in Tunaria. The stone would be the symbol of his power. No true Grozmok would rise without the stone, but many false Grozmoks would die because of it. This was the prophecy, the curse and the legacy of Grozmok.

The ceremony killed Zraxth. His body was burned, and his ashes were scattered. His disciples returned to their tribes, each assuming their old positions among the mystics, teaching their people of the prophecy of Grozmok. Zraxth's first disciple was given the stone, as his tribe was the strongest and most likely to give rise to the Grozmok. They protected the stone and its secrets for many generations, until whispers of the prophecy spread to the Rallosian Empire.

The ogres did not fear the trolls; however, they did fear the power that the stone might grant them. To stifle any hope that the stone may have provided, they raided the home of the tribe that held the stone. After slaughtering all who lived there, they returned the stone to their vaults, attempting to end the prophecy and any power that may have been drawn from it.

The stone remained in the fortified strongholds of the Ogre Empire until the curse of the Pantheon struck the minions of Zek down for their hubris. The fall of the empire created a void of power in Southern Tunaria. The two largest troll factions, Clan Broken Skull and Clan Ykesha, began to battle for rule over the once conquered lands. As their war raged, knowledge of the stone faded from the trolls' minds. It lay forgotten, until marauders from Clan Ykesha found the stone hidden in the vaults of a decimated ogre fortress. The lore and memory of the stone's true meaning had been long lost to the trolls; still they recognized the stone as an artifact from their ancient history, and presented it as a tribute to their clan leader, Warlord Ykesha.

The ancients of Clan Ykesha eventually managed to translate the writing on the stone; this revealed the lost prophecy of the Grozmok to them. Warlord Ykesha took his capturing of the stone to mean that he was destined to be the Grozmok. Rumors of the stone spread throughout the Clans. Meanwhile, the power of Clan Ykesha grew as other tribes joined them to fight for the Grozmok.

Innoruuk, seeing the hate among his children fade as more and more joined Ykesha, planted seeds of doubt in the Warlord's mind. Ykesha grew reclusive, moving deep within his compound to protect himself from attempts to usurp his power. This growing insanity weakened him. As dissention grew within Clan Ykesha, other clans grew bold and struck the might of the Ykesha. It was Clan Broken Skull that managed to finally overthrow Ykesha and lay claim to the stone.

The remnants of the Ykeshan clan regrouped slowly, rising under the might of Warlord Jurgash, and formed Clan Grobb. The new clan grew under the direction of Ykesha's descendent, while the stone remained hidden on Broken Skull Rock. Innoruuk, again seeing the hate among the trolls settling, granted one of Grobb's mystics a vision that revealed the location of the Grozmok stone. Clan Grobb invaded Broken Skull Rock and recovered the stone. The victorious clan returned the stone to Southern Tunaria.

Today, the Grozmok stone rests hidden and well protected deep within Grobb. Knowledge of the stone and the prophecy it contains has once again begun to fade as new generations pursue their own dreams of power. The young consider the old stories of the stone and the first great warlord, who rests in his fortress now swallowed by the swamp, to be campfire myths. Yet, many of the clan elders wait with the hopes that one day the Grozmok will rise from their ranks and fulfill the legacy of Ykesha.

Chapter 2 - The Stone is Stolen
An unnatural fog fills the small cove. It brings with it a numbing quiet, which is only broken by the rhythmic sound of waves washing against the shore and slapping the hulls of several small wooden skiffs. The cove is devoid of life, since most of its typical residents have moved aside to make room for the chilling fog. The morning sun will eventually rise, and the cove's residents will return to their swampy homes. Yet, these things will all wait until the fog has receded to the ocean, carrying its dark cargo with it.

For now, the fog continues to creep up the shore and into the marshlands that lay beyond. The small cove fills with dozens of wooden skiffs. The small boats seem to cut through the water in almost perfect silence, relying only on magic to propel them ashore. A single figure in each rises and pulls its dark hood over its smooth, finned head. One motions toward the dense swamplands to the east. The strange figures seem even more out of place silhouetted against their bulkier, less agile troll allies; yet their authority is unquestioned.

The trolls push quickly through the low tangles of the swamp, their savage strength easily clearing a path. It has been some time since they moved through terrain such as this. Their clan has long avoided this place, but today's activities should remove those old fears. Once they have acquired the stone, the tides will quickly bring a new era with them from Broken Skull Rock.

As the groups reach a clearing near the city of Grobb, they are brought to a sudden halt by the figures that lead them. The robed creatures gather near a small pool. A grotesque webbed hand draws back the robe's hood, revealing the amphibian's face.

"Prepare your soldiers," the strange amphibian says softly, addressing the trolls in their guttural native language. "The doorway we create will not last long and we must have time to follow you in... unless you wish for us to leave you inside with them." The creature pauses, a slight smirk appearing on its face. "This is not your desire, correct?" A defiant grunt is its only answer.

The largest of the trolls turns to face his soldiers as the robed luggalds begin their incantation. All around them, the ankle-deep water comes alive with energy. A small growl surges from within the ranks of the luggalds to become a cacophony of battle cries. The water before the sorcerers rises in a tall, thin sheet. Through the portal can be seen a large wooden bridge, the surprised faces of several guards and, just behind them, a sign that reads: Night Keep.

As the last of the invaders climb out of the moat, which acted as their entrance into Grobb's fortified walls, the raid's leader shouts, "We only leave when we have the stone! Once you have it, burn everything else!" This command echoes through Night Keep's halls, barely audible over the crushing sounds of combat and the surprised cries of unsuspecting guards.

The trolls' cruel nature is apparent as both sides of the battle paint the scene in the savage reds of death and flames. The trolls of Grobb, now fully aware that the unthinkable is in progress, drive the invading clan back to the moat. The clan from Broken Skull Rock, however, has what it came for, and its members fight their way into a position surrounding the crimson moat. From within the cramped formation the murmurs of despicable incantations begin again.

"Your lives, for the fulfillment of prophecy," a voice shouts from within the dense circle of raiders. A shimmering red portal rises from the moat below, engulfing the Trolls and their foul mentors. Those Broken Skull trolls left behind perform their task well and thwart any disruption to the clan's escape. Even as the portal collapses back into the moat, the thieves are well on their way back into the fog that surrounds the cove.

The morning sun is now rising, finding the wind pushing a strange fog and several large ships to the west. This same wind carries a cargo of smoke and confusion through the swamplands of Innothule. The fires in Grobb are extinguished, and the descendants of Ykesha prepare for war.

Chapter 3 - Mithaneil Marr's Blessing
The trolls are clumsier than usual, their hurried movements carrying them between Grobb and the seashore. They pour forth from their city's walls, distractedly searching, almost as if it were all in vain. Knowing that what they seek is beyond their immediate grasp, they continue to act out the role in an effort to pass the time. The curious frogloks are uncertain about the nature of the trolls' loss, but they understand that they are certainly no longer a priority.

Deep within the damp walls that lie beneath the swamp, a mail-clad amphibian stands within the semicircular gaze of the council. He speaks in the tongue of his people, confident and proud, yet devoid of emotion. "We watched them as you requested. It is confirmed. They have sent their soldiers to the sea. The crusaders have left their home. Only a small force remains to defend it. All that you have sent us to observe has occurred. We have nothing else to report."

The elder frogloks nod and the scout quietly leaves the chamber. Silence lingers in the room as they all think about the inevitable future they share. Their wait is coming to an end. Again they will stand before their champion in prayer. Only this time it will be to confirm their destiny as a people. The elders move in silent preparation and in unison they begin their prayer, "Lord Ralthazor, Champion of Marr, Herald of Prophecy, hear us as we are prepared...."

The soft echoes of activity fill the halls with an energy that agitates the stagnant air. There is movement in every corridor, as bodies pour towards the epicenter of their fate. Tonight is like no other they can remember. An assembly of all of the castes is unheard of in their society, and perhaps the elders had this in mind when they announced it. There may be some logic in shaking things up prior to an even greater upheaval.

As the room falls into silence, the elders from each caste rise before the crowd. The room seems to dim as they begin to tell the story of their people. Their history spreads out before them. The story and the visions it conjures dance above the crowd. The elders speak for hours as the decades move across the walls of the great hall. The massive gathering begins to understand; this must be what it is like for a stone to watch life travel by. The understanding that stems from the elders' words begins to speak to the crowd and the elders move aside, as the pale flames of purity rise and begin to illuminate the room.

The white and blue flames dance along the walls A voice fills the minds of the individuals that make up the crowd.

"Do not fear these flames, for they are the sanctuary that will protect you from the darkness. Your task will be to wait on the edge of destiny, peering into the darkness in search of a light. This light, the light of destiny, already shines within this room. It radiates from within your ranks."

While the bulk of the crowd stares, mesmerized by the movement of the flames, several of the listeners begin to make out an image. It steps out of the flames and speaks only to them.

"There are some among you that see my true form. You see me for you are the chosen. I speak to you, because you have found true understanding of yourselves. It is only through that understanding that you may march forward and dispel the dark grasp of fate. You shall carry with you the destiny of your people and act as beacons for those who will wait, safe from the hate and fear that surround you. You will be the lance of valor that pierces the heart of those seeking to oppress your people. You are the seeds of a new age."

These words follow the chosen frogloks as they make their way to their quarters. Unable to sleep, they find themselves thinking of Grobb and the trolls that reside there. Images of battle begin to fill their minds. Feeling drawn by the night, many of the witnesses to tonight's activities leave their quarters and begin to filter towards the cool comfort of the swamp. Perhaps they will find peace there or at least some sign of what they should do next.

Chapter 4 - The Fall of Grobb
Only days before, they had walked from the murky comfort of Innothule, bringing with them a message from their god. The elders waited for them in the glow of Guk's stony mouth, anxious yet unaware of the dramatic change they were about to discover. The firepots' aura met the first of Mithaniel's chosen as they stepped out of the water's dark grasp and made their way ashore.

The elders were mesmerized. Their eyes were transfixed on the glory that their lord had bestowed upon their fellow citizens. Still, the fully transformed frogloks seemed natural, though the evidence of their blessings was far from subtle. They were, after all, merely an evolution; a reminder of the power that the heavens hold over the mortal realm.

Within hours of their return to Guk, the chosen of Mithaniel moved frantically to prepare. Several days of prayer, fasting and planning allowed them to convey the urgency of their visions to the elders and citizens of Guk. They had emerged from the swamp with not only a new form, but also a plan for what would become a new age in the annals of froglok lore. They had been given a clear vision of conquest: Grobb would fall beneath them.

Weakened by the loss of their relic and the disappearance of their greatest heroes, the citizens of Grobb sat unaware in the morning gloom. Their minds were on the ocean and the black waters that were swallowing their kin, a crucial distraction for the interlopers' plans. The trolls of Grobb were wading through the quicksand of despair, blind to the final blow that was gathering in the shadows just outside their city's gates.

Not unlike the froglok elders, the Bashers were mesmerized when their eyes first caught sight of the faces that emerged from Innothule's waters. However, the enthralling sight was not glorious to them, but rather a horrific vision. The first thoughts that came to them were of their god. An epiphany occurred simultaneously among the small crowds of trolls. As they stood on the familiar shores of Innothule, each one began to understand... they must have somehow angered their god... and the assault that was coming towards them must be his final act of retribution.

The battle lasted only hours. From the first call of alarm, to the moment the last of the terrified trolls scurried into the Feerrott and the sands of Ro, the frogloks were clearly blessed. The trolls were reduced to an almost primal state. Those that stood and fought were quickly reduced to a smoldering and broken mass, evidence of the true power of what would be called the Guktan army. The Lance of Mithaniel could only triumph in their mission. Grobb stood decimated before them.

Gukta, the outpost of Marr... The visions that awaited them in the waters of Innothule that first night were not wrong. As the first light of morning broke through the haze and smoke of battle, the frogloks worked quickly to erect proof of their victory. Before the noon sun reached its pinnacle, the city was transformed. Grobb was no more.

Chapter 5 - The Exodus to Neriak
Moving under the concealment of night, the trolls made their way towards the sanctuary of the dark forest. Elder masters, long settled in as trainers and city leaders, found themselves leading the weary droves north along almost forgotten routes. Many had not seen the lands beyond the Serpent's Spine in decades. The events that transpired during the morning's battles served as a reminder to the trolls: defeat lies ever in wait for the unwary. Those same events offered many of the younger trolls a first glimpse at the raw savagery and unbending will shared by their race in battle. These scenes filled their minds and fueled their hatred, a burning focus for the days ahead. For the trolls, their primal need for revenge smoldered, uncontainable. Every step they took to the north magnified their hate.

Only as the travelers approached Neriak's dimly lit mouth did the realization of what had transpired begin to solidify for many of them. No conflict so tumultuous and savage had occurred within the memory of the young trolls. Stories of loss are rare in troll lore, and thus their culture lacks a true point of reference. Weaned on the fruits of cruelty and spiteful savagery, these refugees left more than their homes behind as they fled the swamp's shelter. Taking refuge in their dark allies' city left a brutal hole in the trolls' pride... and Neriak is a poor haven for the weak and wounded.

To further their own goals, the elves refrained from showing their complete disdain for the vanquished swamp-dwellers. Allowing the trolls to settle in the already crowded district of the Foreign Quarter provided many opportunities for monitoring this strange series of events. A mild tolerance would be the most hospitality they would offer, as weakness had little place in their damp, hate-filled halls. Only the innately malicious intelligence of the Tier`Dal restrained their cruel nature... and anyone could see that something strange and new was afoot. The trolls and their predicament needed to be studied.

As the trolls settled in, they found themselves to be a curiosity amongst Neriak's dark citizenry. Rumors of the events in Innothule had circulated long before the displaced trolls arrived. Many agents of the shaded paths had witnessed the events in the south. Even before the first of the refugees had settled into their small piece of Neriak's Foreign Quarter, shadowy agents were sent to prod them for information. Neriak is not a hostel to be entered for free.

Stories of trolls intelligent enough to sail out of the gulf and enter Grobb through the use of magic earned the royal house's curiosity. The theft of the artifact and the transformation of the frogloks were minor details to the dark elves. Their main priority was to determine the nature of this lost tribe of trolls and their cloaked companions. If the rumors held true, this new brood from the sea might possess something more significant than the troll stone. Perhaps Broken Skull Rock contained secrets that could help the Tier`Dal to increase their power? It was hard for the strategists to keep their minds from drifting towards the nearest harbor town and the tactical advantage they would have in taking it, should they seize control of the ocean to the east. If something within Broken Skull Rock gave trolls the ability to command the seas, what power could it offer a more intelligent race?

Chapter 6 - In Pursuit of the Stone
An icy breeze whistled across the hills, parting the fog around a worn dock. The ship creaked and groaned with with the efforts of the salty crew to bring her to shore. A slight elf quickly nodded to an Erudite captain before disembarking the ship. He nimbly slipped past a Kejekan fisherman, completely unnoticed, before disappearing into the mountains.

The midnight journey through the black waters had been nerve-wracking for the elf. Throughout the voyage, the crew had muttered charms of warding as they worked, their eyes searching the darkness for signs of marauding ships. The cargo hold of the old ship had been cramped, and the food bad, but he had made it. The trip was well worth it, as he had made a marvelous discovery and needed to bring word to Kelethin at once. He had found a way to the island.

As the Teir`Dal turned their thoughts to the sea, so did many keen minds across Norrath. News of Grobb's fall, along with rumors of piracy and great powers, spread to the far reaches of the realms. Councils were held amongst city leaders and factions, debating what should be done in this changing time. It had been so long since an event of this magnitude surfaced that the oldest sages were called forth to address this development.

The once peaceful seas had become places of danger and robbery, and the power emanating from the Gulf of Gunthak could conceivably pose a threat to all of Norrath. Trade lines that crossed the sea were severed and packages were not reaching their intended destinations. Communication between the continents would have been lost without the powers of magic. Many factions sent scouts to the Gunthak region, with orders to bring back information on the prophecy, the Grozmok stone, and the mysterious Broken Skull Clan.

Travelers quickly realized that passage to Broken Skull Rock would prove most hazardous, as the pirates now ruled the seas. The increasing power of this renegade band had spread through the Gulf of Gunthak and the Buried Sea, making travel all but impossible.

One particularly astute scout of Tunare sought a safe route to Broken Skull Rock. In his travels, he happened upon a smuggler transferring goods to the island, departing from a remote dock in the Stonebrunt Mountains. This was far from the normal routes the pirate ships patrolled. After a bit of bargaining the elf procured passage on his ship. This proved to be a reliable method for reaching Broken Skull Rock, though the journey was dangerous and there was no guarantee of safety upon arrival.

When the scout returned to Kelethin with the news, messengers were sent at once to other key figures across Norrath. To aid the cause, the Academy of Arcane Sciences and the Druids of Surefall devised new magics for swift travel to the Stonebrunt Mountains. As copies of these spells made their ways into the hands of some of the shadier merchants in the Commonlands, adventurers of all sorts began heading to Broken Skull Rock. A variety of motivations drove these aspiring heroes to Odus: Some sought treasure, some looked to exact revenge upon the clan that had wronged them, and some felt the call of a higher cause.

In Faydwer, many feared that the Dark Elves might gain possession of the stone and warp its power for their own, twisting and bending the world to do their bidding. This must not be allowed to happen, the elves of Faydwer swore. If the hand of Innoruuk had reached this island and empowered such foul creatures, what other horrors could be in store for the civilized realms? What new tragedies would befall the ever-changing world of Norrath in the years to come?

Lost Dungeons of Norrath

Rumors on the Wind
The filthy waters lap rhythmically at the shores of The Overthere. A well-worn boat parts the veil of lazy mist hanging still in the air as it makes its last strides toward land. The strained hull groans softly as it swims toward the sands, finally grating onto the shore.

A tall, tattered figure stands at the bow. His stature and the breadth of his shoulders give away his barbarian heritage. His eyes, gray as the waters, flit along the sands toward the outpost looming nearby as he assesses the immediate dangers.

Seemingly satisfied, he walks amidships, puts a hand on the side of his boat, Thorn of the White Rose. He jumps over the edge to land knee-deep in water with barely a splash.

With that landing, Morden Rasp took another step on the path of a rumor -- one that set him upon the waves and one that he intends to follow to its end. He has heard of trouble amongst the Sarnak.

Morden walks from the surf to a steep incline where grains of sand meet the grass. He leaves no trace, no footprints. As his body rises up to a ledge, he crouches in perfect relationship, his presence barely detectable.

He sees no trace of passing patrols, only wildlife wanders nearby as the willful rogue kneels motionless and quiet for a short time. The deep creases in Morden's brow begin to smooth as he sees no enemies. In ferine movements, he moves back from the ledge. On the sands once again, he turns and slips silently back to the boat.

"All is clear Nedaria," he says in a voice that travels on the air in soft baritones. "It looks like we found ourselves an adequate spot. I need to survey the area before we set up camp though. Come down."

A hardened Erudite face peers over the side of the boat at Morden.

"Lend me a hand?" she asks as she folds back the sleeves of her robe.

"I shall, but you must read my fortune tonight," he says, with a slanted grin.

"You never do anything for free, do you?" Nedaria huffs as she lowers the scruffy rope ladder.

He holds her gently as she carefully makes her descent onto the sands.

Morden and Nedaria turn and walk up the beach together. They are age-old companions, moved by loyalty to one another and adventure...anywhere

Bound by Exile
Pulling a blanket tightly about him, Morden Rasp shook off the chill of the night air. Firelight licked the scars on his weathered cheek as he turned his head toward the glow of the outpost in The Overthere. Two pinpricks of violet looked back at him -- the eyes of a dark elf. The dark-skinned prowler had crept around their camp for several nights, preying on any creatures hungry enough to investigate the mellow aroma of mead and stew.

Nedaria sensed no ill-will from the dark elf, as evil as his innate tendencies may be, and told Morden to leave him be; let him satisfy his curiosity and need to hunt.

"He is much like us Morden," she said. "I feel he may have some part to play here."

Tondal Di`Xevar kept still, his body pressed against the cold earth. He shivered slightly as the wind blew silvery strands of hair across his face. He felt the barbarian look at him, the erudite see into him.

It had been a long time since he'd felt a need for companionship, but he did now. Many times he considered returning to his place at the outpost under his master, Vaean the Night, even though it would be the end of him. Tondal was tired of being alone and having no purpose.

As he crouched, Tondal became lost in a nightmare in his memory. He replayed the night he chanced upon an open tome in Vaean's study, one that made clear that he was ripening Tondal for a vile necromantic ritual. Vaean planned to have Tondal become one of his many mindless minions. That very night, Tondal fled the outpost while his master slept.

Since then, Tondal learned to live off of his wits and the fruits of Kunark, defending himself with his sword and dark magic and calling upon the undead to aid in his hunting.

But, two days ago, Tondal felt eerily drawn back to the outpost. As he carefully crested a hill near the outpost, he spotted a boat on the shore and two travelers of the likes he'd rarely seen. Tondal knew they were aware of his presence, yet they did not attack or approach.

He crept closer this night, inexplicably desperate to talk to the male and female. He felt confident he knew enough of the Common language to convey his harmless interest in them.

Having been lost in reflection, Tondal froze as a hand gripped his shoulder. Instinctively, he crossed his right arm in front of him, drew his sword and pivoted on his right foot, swinging the blade in a wide arc. A shock ran up his arm as an expert parry stopped his blade short.

Tondal looked up and met the steely gaze of Morden Rasp.

Treachery within the Brood
The rumors and riddles about trouble within the Sarnak fluttered about like seeds on the wind. Finally, a few began to take root. Morden Rasp had faith that at least some of the rumors had foundations in truth and he made it his business to find out if they were.

As Morden bought pieces of information about Chardok, he also appeared to purchase a loyal following of like-minded adventurers. His wily charm afforded him low costs and simple agreements to share in the adventure of infiltrating the Sarnak's domain. Making such arrangements was second nature to the seasoned rogue. His years of travel and constant adventuring aided Morden in establishing a small, but relatively loyal following. The bulk of this band was waiting in Freeport, resting after a round of excursions through the Buried Sea and nearby gulf.

A shapeshifter was at work; there were traitors within the highest ranks of the Brood; high-ranking Sarnak citizens had disappeared inexplicably. The information was hard to piece together, the puzzle incomplete.

While Morden vanished for hours at a time, scouting the area and seeking news, Nedaria spent much of her time near the campfire deciphering notes and letters that had been trickling into the camp from hired spies. She made time to teach Tondal Di`Xevar the basics of several languages, like those used by gnomes and the high elves. In return, Tondal occupied Nedaria with stories of mischief about his youth, his dark elf brethren and their escapades around Norrath.

The loyalty between Morden, Nedaria and Tondal grew quickly and was so strong it was felt by all who encountered them.

It had only been a few nights since Morden invited Tondal to the fireside. That night, in dark speech, the three shared their lives and dreams until the glow of Drinal gave way to the rays of Ro. Morden and Nedaria felt tied to this dark elf who shared their adventurous spirits and lives as exiles. They felt closer than family, joined by their very souls for a great purpose.

They each knew that the time to lead their growing band of adventurers into the nearby burning woods was closing quickly.

The Hidden Passage
As Morden Rasp's camp of adventurers grew and readied for an expedition, the Overking Bathezid Di`Zok in Chardok called a secret council to his chambers. Those closest to the Overking were suspicious of Korucust's actions of late.

Over the past decade, Korucust ascended the ranks to become a trusted member of the Overking's security forces and had been rampantly making accusations of treachery within the brood. He pointed his finger at some of the most powerful Di`Zok and those he charged disappeared into his interrogation chambers.

The Overking observed that Korucust often vanished for days at a time with no explanation and it concerned him.

This night, the Overking's assembled council planned to pool its magic for a spell of powerful vision that would allow them to see into Korucust's rooms without detection.

The dozen members of the secret council filtered into the chambers and sat in a loose circle around the Overking.

One of the mages began to mutter an incantation. Then, another began. And another. Soon, the echoes of the chanting voices took an airy form, a window of sight, which the Overking controlled with his own mind. He willed the magic eye through the deep caverns of Chardok to Korucust's rooms.

He inched the eye through a wall where faint squeals emanated.

Gasps stole the air in the Overking's chamber as horror robbed the mages of their breath.

The Overking's own blood chilled and his heart darkened as he watched Korucust torture Gimliox Ran`Ti, one of the palace's master healers.

The only words Korucust uttered were in a necromantic language. His blood-coated arms were ablaze with a dark red magical energy.

Gimliox's screams began to ebb and his eyes slowly rolled under his scaled lids. Calm washed over his reptilian features.

The Overking immediately understood the extremity of the sinister arts that Korucust practiced. Gimliox wandered mindlessly into a dark hall after Korucust unshackled him. He could be heard muttering phrases of nonsense drawn from his shattered mind.

"I am Shai`Din. The Brood of Di`Zok is my enemy. I am Shai`Din. I am Shai`Din. Enemies are close."

Secrets in the Solusek Mines
Mines Chalky fingers wiggled through a crack in the wall, deftly whittling the mortar and stone apart a little further. The fingers disappeared and then a muffled, repetitive thud came from behind the wall. There was a loud crack as the stone wall split apart. With one more thud the stones in the wall broke free and marked the mossy ground.

All was still for a moment.

Slowly, a dusty figure squirmed sideways through the fracture in the wall and worked its way outside. Coughing quietly and wafting the dust from his face, Morden Rasp squinted as he adjusted to the light of the day.

He reached back behind the wall and pulled out a number of lightly packed bags that clanged as they shifted in his grasp. A grin broke the sternness of Morden's face. Delighted about the treasures he lifted from the deepest halls of Chardok, Morden made his way to his camp.

Morden appeared out of the heavy mist, waving his bags.

"Do you have enough to satisfy you for now?" Nedaria asked dryly.

"There is no such thing as satisfied, me dear," snickered Morden.

Nedaria showed Morden a scribbled note that was delivered earlier that day from an oasis in the deserts of Ro.

"The Solusek Mining Company has sent word that the kobold tribes are more active than usual. The gnomes made mention of some sort of uprising. If the kobolds cause a great enough disturbance in Solusek's Eye, it will be interesting to watch if nothing else," Nedaria said. "These activities may open up great opportunities for us should they reach as deep as Nagafen's Lair."

Morden's eyes lit up.

"I know those lands well," Tondal said. "I remember them from my travels as a youth. We servants often accompanied our masters during journeys beyond Neriak's gates," Tondal grinned, happy to be of greater value to Morden and Nedaria.

Excited about a new adventure, Morden gathered the ever-increasing number of adventurers around him and gave them the order to start packing up the camp. It wouldn't be long before the adventurers would hoist the sail on the Thorn of the White Rose.

Fires and Frustration
Morden took a worn rag from his satchel and wiped the sweat off his brow, leaving a light smear of dirt across his cheek. It had been several days since he, Nedaria, and Tondal first sucked the burning air of the place called the Lavastorm Mountains into their lungs.

"I've decided we ought to give our faithful band a name of some sort," Morden said. "We're becoming somewhat renowned, are we not?! I think we ought to take pride in what we do and who we are. . . aye. Knowing us like I do, I think we ought to call ourselves the Wayfarers Brotherhood."

Tondal's violet eyes shone with pride upon hearing the name.

"Yes, Morden. A fine name indeed. A real family," he said.

"Aye, I agree. It's been a long time coming and the name should serve us well as we continue our travels," Nedaria chimed in.

"Well, enough of that then, eh? Be sure to get the word out! As for me, I need to get meself back in those mines and find a way past that mess o' goblins and bloody clockworks," Morden moaned. "I've never seen such a blasted infernal place and I am really not used to such resistance to my good looks. Nedaria weren't even this difficult." He winked at Nedaria.

Nedaria sighed, shook her head and turned away from Morden to hide a smile.

Morden hummed as he wrapped three lock picks in leather straps, so they wouldn't make any sound in his satchel as he moved. He rummaged through a crate and gathered up some rope, a few morsels of bread, and a flask of water. He bid his friends -- now of the Wayfarers Brotherhood -- farewell and set off toward the crater bubbling with lava.

Nedaria busied herself building the camp in the Lavastorm Mountains with all the new adventurers that had followed from the Burning Woods. They all waited patiently as Morden continued his attempts to move with the shadows past all the terrible creatures in the Solusek mines. He had been trying for days to get close enough to listen to the whispers and wonderings within the ranks of the Solusek kobolds. It had proven difficult and Nedaria could feel his aggravation.

Nedaria and Tondal both hoped he would have more success this day.

A Shadow Speaks
Nedaria quietly reminisced about her youth. No one in Erudin had known she was different. As a young free-spirited erudite, she discovered she had an innate power to see into people's minds and overcome the boundaries of the present to glimpse into the future.

She remembered the first foreboding dream that came to her. One of the nobles of Erudin was planning to murder his own son who threatened to replace him and ascend to the city's council.

After rising from her sleep that night, she ran to her mother, Tilisea Nebeian, who was studying at the grand table in the library of their home. She tugged at her mother's robe and told her the nightmare she had.

Her mother first smiled with delight as she entertained the wild musings of her child. Then, as Nedaria continued, her mother's face twisted in fear. She quickly hushed Nedaria and ran into the storeroom, frantically throwing supplies into a satchel. Tilisea grabbed her daughter's arm tightly and dragged her quickly through the city and out into the darkness of the Toxxulia Forest. She crouched in front of Nedaria and handed the satchel to her. With tears glistening in her eyes, Tilisea held her daughter's face in her hands.

"Run now little one. You cannot stay here. The nobles will learn of your gift and rob you of all you hold dear -- your mind and talents. Talk to no one. Let your senses guide you. I will seek you out soon," Tilisea said in a single rush of breath.

Nedaria was terrified and confused, but turned from her mother and ran as far and as fast as she could. Her tears streaked her soft cheeks as she sobbed.

It had been many years since that night and she never heard from her mother again. Her heart withered knowing that her mother may have paid a dear price for saving her.

Nedaria's time within her memories ended abruptly as a sense of gloom passed over her -- a presence she was not familiar with was nearby. She looked up from the necklace she was crafting and saw nothing. She rose from her seat on a crate of blankets and turned her eyes to the east.

In the heat haze and geysers of steam, the shimmering outline of a humanoid figure moved closer. It was a shadow that moved without the need of an object to cast it.

Nedaria heard of shadowed creatures in Norrath that could move in the light of day. She also recalled that they were to be avoided.

The figure then crept backward behind the steam. Nedaria followed, believing that this creature of shadow would have already attacked had it wanted the blood of those in the camp.

Down the hill, under the gentle flapping wings of a fire drake, Nedaria waited alone. She sent out a soft voice from her mind, hoping it would reach the creature. In the Common tongue of Norrath, she repeated, "I am here to listen if you have something to say."

A gravelly voice whispered into her right ear. She remained motionless.

"We seek the same enemy. The servants of Solusek Ro need to be cast out. You know as well as I that this is the only path to true magical power. It is our place to rule the world. The pure and true magic of the Shadowed men is the only art," it said. "I can help you if you can help me. I can promise you power."

With her back to the Shadowed man, Nedaria listened as he told a tale of greed among the Solusek kobolds and a growing resentment of the resident lord, the mighty dragon, Nagafen.

A Dragon's Riches
The strong rule the weak. That is the law amongst the kobolds. But in the depths of Lord Nagafen's lair, one of the strongest of the Solusek kobolds grew restless.

While kobolds do not usually give in to pride, some do indeed give in to greed.

Heili Erat, a noble of the Solusek kobold clan, grew increasingly angry that he was left on the fringe of the royalty. The rewards he sought for his position were ignored. No matter how he petitioned for an army of his own, he was shuffled back to his filthy room, where he could often be heard pacing back and forth while cursing them all.

Heili decided it was time to seek power and riches of his own. He would find a way to line his pockets with gold.

For as long as Heili could recall, he had been told to stay away from Lord Nagafen, the mighty dragon in the bowels of the mines. He was told never to explore there or he would face the dire lord's fiery breath. The legends say that those who attempted to slay the dragon were stripped of all their riches and wasted away deep in the caverns-a place no Solusek kobold had ever set foot.

Rather than get the tangled fur of his own haunches seared by Lord Nagafen, he decided to send an unsuspecting slave. He called a kobold slave to his shabby room and had him sit in front of him. The noble quickly cast a charm spell upon the poor slave, bidding him to search the deep caverns of Nagafen's den to see what lay hidden there.

It is not known what the enchantment was that captured the slave, but it was somehow enough for him to catch a glimpse of a cavern filled with enormous heaps of riches belonging to Lord Nagafen. Heili saw it all as he looked through the slave's eyes.

That was the tale woven by the Shadowed man to Nedaria who, in turn, relayed it to Morden and Tondal. Morden believed the tale. The creases at the corners of his eyes crumpled as he smirked, his gray eyes glistening with the thrill of adventure.

Two nights had passed and Morden had finally reached the Solusek kobold's lair, where he perched on a ledge near a lava pit. He heard them growling about a hidden passage and the noble's idiocy. They said he was starting rumors and saying that Lord Nagafen's lair was not real.

In the shadows, Morden made time to watch Heili, the noble. He saw him caress an old crate on the floor of his makeshift room and cackle. He got up and paced past the torch on the wall and its flame flickered. It was enough to capture a glint of gold between the rotting wooden slats of the crate.

"There are riches of the likes we've never seen, my dear friends. I'm sure of it," Morden said with a roguish grin. "I've found a way for us to enter the hold. Prepare yourselves for adventure. We move today!"

Madman's Curse
A withered form stumbled about the Plane of Knowledge, his feet dragging over the stone pathways.

The agony and confusion the wizard felt in his mind was embodied in his physical presence. His robe hung scruffily around his frame and the tattered hem whispered as it trailed across the cobbles. Strings of dark matted hair dangled around his face.

At intervals, the wretched man, Calliav Giniuar, had moments of clarity and spewed broken words and splintered visions with a wild look in his eyes.

"Time! My lord in Time. . . We fail . . . dark days . . . shadows move under Norrath . . . sands . . . a curse . . . the stone!" he cried madly.

Calliav learned the legends about Zebuxoruk, the Forsaken, when he was a small boy. As he grew older, his dreams and hopes that the demigod Zebuxoruk could be contacted and freed from his imprisonment in the Plane of Time became an obsession. Calliav's awe of the knowledge that Zebuxoruk was thought to have was unbounded.

Year after year, Calliav honed his meditative skills. He believed he could reach Zebuxoruk, who he called his "lord," through a focused and loyal mind.

After many years of practicing meditative arts, Calliav's mind was able to transcend his body and make contact with ethereal beings. Thus far, he had never been close to feeling or seeing Zebuxoruk.

Day after day, Calliav continued to refine his focus.

Zebuxoruk had felt Calliav's spirit some time ago and believed he might make an acceptable repository for some of his knowledge. Having been imprisoned in Time, Zebuxoruk felt a need to find a channel that would allow his grim visions of the future to reach the citizens of Norrath.

One fateful night, Calliav focused his mind with such great intensity that the rhythm of his heart almost ceased. His breaths were long and deep. In those moments, Calliav's presence was palpable to Zebuxoruk, so he unleashed a fraction of his knowledge to the determined mage's mind.

Calliav was sorely unprepared, as any mortal would have been, to receive such a flood of knowledge. His mind was blinded and unable to sort, comprehend, and process. He opened his eyes, attempting to focus on a stack of tomes in his dimly lit room and couldn't. Reality became clouded by the unfathomable number of thoughts flitting across his mind's eyes.

Calliav felt an urgency about the knowledge Zebuxoruk had given him. A need to prepare for danger grew in his heart. Something dark and terrible was on the horizon-something so foul it was almost inconceivable. Logic crumbled.

A vision of a magic stone pulsed inside Calliav. He had to learn what it meant. Had to.

His mind screamed as his body tried to command his feet to take him to the Plane of Knowledge for answers.

He fell against the door of his modest room in the West Karanas. Something ominous and evil prowled just beyond his vision, choking his mind. "Doom," he thought. "It could be the end of us all."

Seeking the Stone
Trapped in the chaos of his mind, Calliav continued to stagger through the Plane of Knowledge, aching for calm and relief for many days.

As he continually wandered, Calliav caught the murmurs of passing Norrathians. Several times, he heard about a band of adventurers, the Wayfarers Brotherhood, which had become well respected for its success in finding information and exploring.

It was clear to Calliav that he should seek the leader of this crew of explorers, Morden Rasp. He would send a messenger to request his help very soon. For now, though, Calliav had to continue his research into the vision of glowing stone that kept haunting him. He believed it to be that magical stone that was stolen from the trolls-the Grozmok Stone.

Morden, Nedaria, and Tondal had gotten word that a raving madman was seeking their assistance to find an object of grave importance. Naturally intrigued, Morden wanted to learn more, but was uneducated about travel to and from the planes. Twice now, he had sent messengers to get word to the lunatic, but had heard nothing more.

If the news about the madman was true, Morden and his friends might face their greatest adventure yet. The idea was an alluring proposition for another reason -- now that Morden's team of outcasts and shunned travelers rivaled any powerful group of explorers on Norrath, Morden wanted to prove the worth of his great friends to the world. He was confident they could take on any challenge and be successful. No one knew adversity like he and the rest of the Wayfarers Brotherhood.

Morden was told by the last messenger that Calliav could arrive on Norrath at any time and that he would most likely find his way to the city of Freeport.

Nedaria agreed to lead the growing camp in Lavastorm while Morden and Tondal ran to Freeport. Tondal was familiar with the underground labyrinth of the sewers of the city.

The two companions ran with the shadows in Nektulos forest, slipping past the guards in the Commonlands. Arriving in Freeport, Tondal led Morden to the hidden entrance to the Freeport sewers. As they crept through the darkness, they came upon a pedestal holding a book. It emitted a power that made the hair on the back of Morden's neck stand on end.

The two edged their way around a corner to observe this strange object pulsating with magic.

It wasn't long before a low hum stirred from the book on the pedestal. The sound had such a deep resonance that Morden's teeth chattered. Tondal felt his chest vibrate as he watched a puddle of slime ripple at his feet.

The two shared a confused glance when a crimson glow began to fill the slippery walls of the sewer.

A Path with Purpose
The brilliance of the crimson light began to fade and a robed figured took an unsure step forward. Morden moved out of the shadows and was taken aback by the look of recognition on the mage's deeply creased face.

The mage extended a thin, trembling arm as his eyes began to roll back into their lids. The weakened man's knees gave way and he started to fall to the grimy floor of the sewer. Morden lunged forward with striking grace and speed, catching the mage before his head hammered the ground.

"Well, how do ye like that for a greetin'? I usually have to work a wee bit before folk fall to my feet," Morden cracked wise to Tondal.

"It is amazing to me how easily you amuse yourself, Morden," Tondal winked back.

The two collected the frail, shallow-breathing human and rested his back against the slippery wall. Morden looked him over.

"I believe this be 'im, eh?" Morden asked, looking to Tondal for confirmation.

"He certainly did seem to have issue with his faculties. I would guess it is Calliav Giniuar," Tondal replied.

"Go yeself back to Lavastorm and tell Nedaria to collect our friends and meet us in the Commonlands. There be an old swashbuckler there that will put us up for a while. We just simply can't take this poor soul to that infernal place," Morden said.

"We shall meet you there soon, friend. Be safe," Tondal hesitated a moment before he spoke again. "It may just be my excitement, but I think this meeting will be of great importance to all of us."

Morden looked at Tondal and nodded quietly.

"Aye, it may be."

Tondal turned and disappeared into the night outside the sewers.

An Adventurer's Agreement
The tunnel between the Commonlands and the deserts of Ro began to bustle with traffic. The presence of the Wayfarers Brotherhood caused quite a commotion as travelers attempted to understand their presence there.

The merchants felt generous as they made their fortunes from the boisterous band of friends. Mead, beer, bread, and grand meals were passed amongst the brotherhood. Laughter and loud voices bounced within the sandstone caverns.

However, in one corner it was quiet. A dark, graceful hand rested on Calliav's pale forehead. His skin shone with beads of perspiration and his eyes were desperate and sunken.

"Do not fight me, Calliav. I can help you, but you must open your mind to me," Nedaria said softly.

"I can not. If I open my mind again, I shall lose myself entirely," Calliav shuddered.

"We need to work together to bring order to your thoughts. If you don't harness this now, you will be lost in any case," Nedaria said sternly.

Calliav quivered and a drop of anguish slid down his temple. He tried to overcome his fears and frenzied thoughts.

"Alright. I am putting my trust and sanity in your hands. Don't lose either of us," Calliav groaned.

Nedaria leaned in and increased the pressure of her hand on Calliav's brow. He shifted his weight forward into her palm. He squinted as he focused on releasing his mind.

Soon, Calliav felt a calming essence enter his mind. While his mind rattled with images and voices, the torment he felt for days faded somewhat.

The hood around Nedaria's sleek forehead began to tremble. Her arms and hands followed. A stabbing pain throbbed in Nedaria's mind as she attempted to help Calliav focus his mental energy. She felt the frenetic pace of his thoughts, the number of them, and the magnitude of their meaning. Though she could not see what he did, Nedaria felt a sorrow unlike any she'd ever known. That Calliav's spirit survived at all was miraculous to her.

She released her grip and leaned back against the cold wall, rubbing her burning temples.

Calliav had stopped shaking. He opened his eyes and stared directly at Nedaria.

"You must help me find the Grozmok Stone. Agree to surrender the stone to me when it is found and I promise to offer you what information I can. What I can tell you may lead you to lost civilizations, dark horrors, and creatures that you've never seen wandering the lands of Norrath," Calliav said, as his gaze shifted from Nedaria to Morden.

Morden had been standing above them both, ready to break their intellectual bond should something go wrong. Upon hearing Calliav's request, he looked down at Nedaria with surprise and understanding. Nedaria nodded to him, knowing Calliav was not looking at her. She stood up briskly and went to talk to Tondal.

"Surely this is folly, Calliav. We have seen all there is in these lands," Morden said.

"No, there is much that you have yet to see and when you do you may regret having ever really opened your eyes," Calliav warned.

"With that kind of introduction, how could I possibly say no," Morden beamed, as he laid a hand on the troubled mage's shoulder. "So, where do we start?

Search for Lost Lands
In the warm air of the Commonlands tunnel, Calliav closed his eyes and began running through the countless images and visions filling his mind.

"I see snow, ice, and a great magic with no face. There may have been a face once, but it is gone now," he whispered. "There is little more to that, I'm afraid."

Nedaria stood close and kept her hand on his forehead, helping him slow the rush of thoughts. Morden took notes in a code only the most trusted Wayfarers Brotherhood could understand.

"Now I see blood. Lots of blood. The dead are walking, breathing, reanimating. They are unholy and feed in the most despicable ways. I see a castle . . . but there is much underground. Much more," Calliav said.

There was a pause as Calliav searched his thoughts. Suddenly, he winced and his face lengthened.

"Confusion, fear. The walls are collapsing and sand is rushing in. Half blood, half sand. Now they are all in sand. They do not know that the wrath of Solusek Ro has passed," he said in low tones. His cheeks glistened with tears of sadness.

Calliav's chest heaved as he took a deep breath. He paused again. Under his eyelids, his eyes fluttered wildly.

The hush around them was broken as Calliav gasped so suddenly that air whistled through his teeth.

"Oh my, the paladins are lost. I see the frogloks blessed by Mithaniel Marr are transformed. A curse holds their souls. I feel the burning hate of a god," Calliav panted. "And the orcs. The orcs have risen. Goblins have been overrun and enslaved."

Morden and Tondal looked to Nedaria. In both of their eyes, Nedaria read the need for confirmation of Calliav's ramblings. In many ways, the possibility of undiscovered lands felt too good to be true. Morden also had trouble believing that he could have ever missed such places in his travels.

Nedaria looked at both of them and nodded.

"These visions he is sharing are not fantasy. They are real. There is much strife deep within the earth . . . and darkness," she said.

Morden turned around to see proud members of the Wayfarers Brotherhood sharing past adventurers and creating new stories as they ambled about. He cleared his throat.

"Listen up brothers and sisters. Our time has come. Pack your goods and be prepared to travel. Nedaria will lead a camp to the Frigid Planes and Northlands on Antonica. Tondal will lead some of our brethren across the Ocean of Tears to the Butcherblock Mountains on Faydwer," Morden said. "I will remain here with Calliav and a greater compliment of the Wayfarers Brotherhood. We are about to open the doors to the future of all Norrathians, I expect. Off with ye!"

For the complete lore as revealed by the various augment-enhancing NPCs, Loral hosts Krozman's account.

Gates of Discord

Morden Rasp and his Wayfarers Brotherhood have been collecting, trading and selling items discovered recently in dark places under Norrath. Unlike the other types of wealth that they have managed to gather, these stones displayed some unusual properties when brought together in large volume. A large enough mass of the material acts much like a loadstone, pointing - even pulling - toward a distant point.

As the Wayfarers explore this new magic, Calliav Giniuar, a troubled mage, begins to gain control over the visions that have been crippling him for months. He keeps much of what he has seen to himself, dropping only hints of a terror that he does not wish to discuss. He bends his mind to the power of the stones with a frightening focus. Morden Rasp and his Wayfarers Brotherhood companions fear for his state of mind nearly as much as they did when he was forced to withdraw from reality because of the terrible things he had seen.

Calliav is rewarded for his efforts with more pain. He manages to fuse several chunks of the new magical material unearthed in the lost dungeons together, hoping that a larger mass will allow him a better chance to discover its properties. But, when he touches the combined mass a painful surge of magical energy courses through him, knocking him unconscious. The last thing he was heard to say was to Morden, insisting that he build a ship, a very large ship.

During brief moments of lucidity, Calliav manages to express that he has seen the “Heart of the Currents.” This is a legendary place beyond the reach of any mariner, thought to be a simple legend to frighten novice sailors. But that is not all Calliav has seen. He also sees frightening visages, things so evil and powerful that he fears that the end of Norrath is near.

Morden and the Wayfarers have decided to go to meet the fate of Norrath head on. They once again call for your help. They have found the Heart of the Currents and breached the way. Now it will fall upon the shoulders of Norrath’s heroes to discover the nature of this threat. Certainly those that have faced and defeated the gods of Norrath will not be turned aside by visions of an unstoppable army...

Calliav's Visions
The ravings of a mage called Calliav Giniuar who has foreseen a great and dark land across the turbulent waters of the Abysmal Sea have been recorded. His ramblings were refined and his descriptions were sketched. What resulted were outlandish stories and creatures that no Norrathian could believe or conceive. Calliav believes there is an army called the Legion of Mata Muram waiting for Norrath to greet it. As a result of Calliav's rants, he was labeled a madman once again for spouting such terrifying untruths.

For your entertainment, we'll show you a few of the mage's descriptions of strange beasts with accompanying drawings that he had a painter make under the light of a torch on a dark night when he awoke from one of his strange visions...

1. The Aneuk -- Priests of the Legion of Mata Muram
The Aneuk originate from a world of pure magic. These priests are the most powerful of their world, having channeled the strength of a god of darkness unlike anything Norrathians have seen. They have the unique ability to cause as much harm as they can heal.

While the Aneuk excel with magic, they are physically weak. Over the centuries, what used to be legs that carried them as bipedal creatures have become nothing but dangling, atrophied bone and flesh, since levitation is now used for travel. To protect their fragile bodies, they wear armor inscribed heavily with glyphs that give added protection and strength. The glyphs associated with their god also aid them in focusing and channeling their magic across realms and planes.

The race is extremely ancient, having seen many battles won and lost on many worlds. They are highly intelligent, and proudly display on their armor the skulls of kings and leaders they have conquered over the courses of their long lives.

When the Legion of Mata Muram arrived to decimate the home of the Aneuk, they were given a choice -- die or join. As the Aneuk thrive on power, torture, and conquering, several believed they would find a suitable home among the dark creatures of the legion.

The Aneuk are not only on the fields of battle. There are several levels of the Aneuk that not only have unique magic, but also serve special functions for leaders within the Legion of Mata Muram. They are adept at organizing and strategizing.

2. The Kyv -- Hunters of the Legion of Mata Muram
The kyv come from a land of complete darkness which has made them ideal hunters for the Legion of Mata Muram. They hunt using their senses and can track heat signatures and ultrasonic waves. They are incredibly stealthy, and have unequalled skill with bows and arrows.

Their origins are mired in sadism. In their youth, the skin covering most of their body is branded with a white-hot blade. The markings on their skin indicate their ancestry and rank in the social order of the kyv. These tribal burn patterns made of scar tissue, with little or no blood flow, also act as camouflage in worlds where creatures hunt by heat signatures.

The kyv have a rich heritage of gladiators and hunters. Their entertainment was not presented in coliseums, but in the dark, dangerous wilds of their home world. The hunter was the hunted -- kyv against kyv. It was a brutal and dangerous game that brought death to the loser.

The kyv do have the ability to use magic, but it's used almost exclusively to charge their arrows. The type and nature of arrows displayed protruding from their armor are not just symbols of status, but ability. The higher the rank and status, the more powerful the devastation capability of the arrows in the back slots in their armor.

While the kyv are master archers, they can also hold their own using daggers and short swords.

The recruiters of the Legion of Mata Muram convinced many kyv to sign up. In fact, it was seen as an honor to be recruited. Even as one of the lowest ranks in the legion, the kyv are proud and pleased to wreak havoc on all who oppose them...

The one drawback of joining the legion was the inevitabile: contact with worlds of light. As a result, all of the kyv that were in the legion, and bred for the legion, stitched their eyes in a great ceremony. The stitching of the eyes prevents them from the pain and distraction of light in other worlds and indicates ascension on the path to becoming the ultimate hunter. Upon a victory in battle, most will remove the eyes from their victims and hold them as trophies.

3. The Ukun -- War Hounds of the Legion of Mata Muram
A captive ukun is virtually untamable, even on its home world. Captivity quickly leads an ukun to a violent and volatile mental state. They can only be taught simple commands, like "kill," or "find."

Ukun are often used as hunting animals by dominant races. The biggest problem with the ukun when used as a hunting animal is that they do not retrieve much. The ukun handler is invariably left with only bones from a catch.

Each time an ukun enters a world with light, they violently react to it by clawing at their eyes until the pain, and for that matter, their eyes, are gone. Fortunately, the ukun can regenerate their eyes, but only in the total absence of light. They can easily hunt without sight as they are sensitive to heat, sound, and the movement of air across their sensitive skin.

When the legion herded up several of the ukun for its use, they adorned the beasts with a leash and armor that would serve as control mechanism with pins that dig into the flesh. The pale skin of the ukun was then branded with the markings of an unknown magic that provided their fragile skin with some protection.

The ukun are savage creatures that can hunt in packs, eating their enemies alive.

Chapter 1 - Visions of Chaos

Under the flickering torchlight in the tunnel in the Commonlands, Calliav set his weary eyes upon his three new friends, Morden Rasp, Nedaria Debeian, and Tondal Di'Xevar. Several days earlier, he sent word asking for them all to meet. He had something to tell them. Something important.

"Thank you for meeting with me. It's wonderful to see us all together again," Calliav said with as much cheer as he could muster. "First, I want to thank all of you for taking me in, especially in the raving and maddened state I seemed to be in."

"Aye, it weren't nothin' dear friend. Ye've set me and me friends on a course we wouldn't dare dreamed of. And ye are lookin' a might better, Calliav," Morden said.

"Indeed. With time and Nedaria's help, I've been able to conquer my thoughts again. But, there is one vision that I can't seem to suppress in any way," Calliav said with a worried expression.

Nedaria put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't be afraid to tell us what is on your mind Calliav," she said. "We are well aware by now that you are not the madman you appeared to be. I believe all you say is true and I can convince these other two of the same, no matter how much they may try to taunt you with their poor humor."

Morden and Tondal looked at each other and shrugged, feigning ignorance. They both turned to Calliav and smiled, encouraging him to continue.

"Well, as you know, in our search for the Grozmok Stone, adventurers all over Norrath are turning up strange minerals and gems that appear to be imbued with varying powers," Calliav said. "I took it upon myself to start collecting them to see if they were perhaps shattered pieces of the Grozmok Stone."

As Calliav mentioned the Grozmok Stone, Morden's eyes became stern and Nedaria looked uncomfortable, shifting on her feet where she stood. Tondal looked to Morden and Nedaria with a strange expression. Calliav didn't seem to notice any of the tension as he continued.

"I noticed there is some kind of force that is created as more of these materials are put close together, much like a magnetic force," Calliav looked at his friends, his face set in a sheepish expression. "The stones seem to be acting like a compass of some sort."

"Sounds reasonable to me. What else? I can see there is more ye are wantin' to say, friend. Of all the strange things we've discovered, I'd say this one is a wee bit mild so far, eh?" Morden said reassuringly.

"Well, that vision I mentioned? The one that won't go away? Well, I . . .," Calliav's voice trailed off and he stood silent, his eyes cast to the floor.

"Please Calliav! You can't just leave us in suspense. We trusted all you said before even though we were nearly certain it couldn't be true. Trust us now else I go mad on you!" Tondal said, a dark-skinned smile spreading across his sharp features.

"The truth is that we have barely scratched the surface I fear. While the Grozmok Stone is still very important somehow, there is something else, something dark on the horizon. I fear for Norrath. I really do fear for us all," he said.

"What is it, Calliav?" Nedaria asked. "In our time together and all the times I've sensed what runs through your mind, I've not seen anything that threatens all of us."

"There is nothing to see, Nedaria. No one has ever laid eyes on this threat, this evil. I can sense it more than see it," Calliav said. "Zebuxoruk gave me this knowledge for a reason and I believe he intended for all of us to prepare."

"Prepare for what?" Morden asked.

"A war of the likes we have never seen. All of Norrath, good and evil, must band together if we wish to survive."

Chapter 2 - Eyes to the Sea

The leaders of the Wayfarers Brotherhood -- Morden Rasp, Nedaria Debeian, and Tondal Di'Xevar -- stood together in the East Commonlands tunnel, looking over the heads of jolly Wayfarers Brotherhood initiates to where Calliav sat quietly in a darkened corner with his back to the commotion. For days, Calliav had been fiddling with a stockpile of mystical gems and stones that brotherhood members were turning up. For the past few hours he had been arranging the gems and stones in runic patterns all about him and mumbling incantations like none had ever heard.

"Calliav sure 'as been quiet of late, ain't 'e? I wonder what's goin' on in that wild mind of 'is, hm?" Morden said as he glanced from Calliav to his closest friends who stood facing him.

"He is greatly troubled Morden, but he's also doing his best to find us answers...even though we already know some answers he seeks," Nedaria's eyes turned to the floor as she uttered the words.

"Now Nedaria, chin up, eh? The time will come for us to tell Calliav more about ourselves, but for now we must focus on these tales and visions of peril that 'e keeps spoutin', hm?" Morden suggested as he rested his scarred right hand on Nedaria's gently sloping shoulder.

Tondal interrupted.

"Morden, my logic tells me that Calliav must be going mad again. That side of my mind just can't fathom that we are in any great danger," Tondal paused a moment before he caught Morden with the intensity of glowing violet eyes. "But, I confess, my heart tells me that all he says is true. It also tells me that Calliav and this unseen foe he speaks of are what brought us together in the first place."

"Aye Tondal. I know ye are a big believer in fate. I won't dismiss what ye say, but I think we're best of friends because we have like hearts, not because of grand design...but then, perhaps I'm more salty than I ought to be, eh? I been thinkin' there's a brambly path ahead of us, me friends, but I 'ave no doubts that we'll find our way if we stay true to each other, hm?" Morden grinned in his usual optimistic fashion.

It was then that a blinding flash of blue light filled the tunnel. A shockwave of magic followed it and blew everyone off their feet. In an instant, Morden, Nedaria, and Tondal found themselves tangled together on the tunnel floor next to a wall.

In the aftermath, an eerie quiet saturated the tunnel. Soon after, groans echoed throughout the caverns as everyone gathered their wits and stood up, all eyes reflecting confusion and concern.

Suddenly an agonized cry broke the stillness. It was a familiar voice.

Morden was on his feet and moving before anyone could discern the source of the pained wailing. He was running toward a faint glow at the back of the tunnel. It was Calliav.

As Morden approached, his jaw dropped in surprise and horror. An eerie light pulsed out of Calliav's skin as he lay writhing on the tunnel floor.

"NEDARIA! Get over here please, NOW!" Morden yelled. It was seconds before Nedaria forced her way through the growing crowd of onlookers.

Nedaria stopped still when she saw him.

"I've never seen anything like this Morden. Ever," she said, as she started to kneel next to Calliav, afraid to touch him.

Calliav shuddered and choked out some words.

"Mord...en...Morden...hear me..."

"What is it sprite? Are ye alright? Ye look a darned mess mage," Morden said, trying to lessen the biting mood of fear in all of them.

"I've seen... ahh... our... path. You... mu... must... build... great... sh... ship... bigger... biggest... all of Nor... Norrath must... make a journey," Calliav curled up and coughed. The magical light from his flesh began to ebb some.

"A ship? What is this? We've already got the Thorn of the White Rose, me friend. Why would I need another?"

"Trust in...me. I have seen what we... must... do. We are making... a... journey... as one... west... one purpose... all must come together. Please... we must... be... quick... doom... death..." Calliav's voice trailed off and his eyes rolled back. His body went still.

Nedaria forgot her reservations and bent over Calliav, resting her hand on his forehead trying to read or sense what happened to him. As she focused her mind, her eyes shut so tightly that deep wrinkles carved into her weathered face. Tondal pushed his way to where Nedaria and Morden stood, his eyes settling on them both, flickering with worry.

Nedaria's voice was muddled and trembling as she spoke from under her robe's hood, still crouched next to Calliav.

"He's gone. He's drawn within his mind, I believe. I can't reach him and I doubt anyone can. I must say, I do not know what to make of this at all, except one thing Morden," she stood up and faced Morden and Tondal. "We must do as he asked."

"I won't question ye Nedaria. Not now. I've not seen anything like this meself," Morden stated firmly. Tondal nodded as he rubbed his aching shoulder that had slammed into the tunnel wall with the blast of magic.

Just hours after Morden put his adventurers to task, Wayfarers Brotherhood scouts returned to him with a perfect location to build a ship. Morden had made it clear that the Wayfarers Brotherhood wouldn't be building just any ship, but one as big and as beautiful as any of Norrath's cities.

Not fully understanding the purpose of his new ship, Morden felt he should spare no expense. He put out a call for the best and brightest of Norrath's engineers and shipwrights to be ready.

Chapter 3 - A Common Course

Morden Rasp groaned as he gently lowered Calliav Giniuar from over his shoulders to soft grass under a tent, his arm and back muscles quivering under the strain.

It had been over a day traveling through the deserts, Karanas, and Qeynos Hills to bring Calliav and Nedaria Debeian to their next camp in Nedaria's Landing. For much of the distance, Morden and Tondal Di'Xevar shared the burden of carrying the comatose mage by making a hammock from bear hides. The bear-hide tore in the West Karanas and rather than wait to repair it, Morden wanted to press on. Much work had to be done, he told them.

Nedaria walked along side them with her hand resting on Calliav's shoulder. For many days, she tried to reach Calliav who was lost in his own mind. Several times, for a few fleeting moments, she felt a glimmer of Calliav's consciousness and kept losing him. She believed that if they took Calliav to the place where the boat was to be built, he might wake. The boat was his idea after all. Nedaria didn't hold too much hope, though, but thought it couldn't hurt to try it.

With Calliav restlessly continuing his sleep under the tent, Nedaria sat next to him and shook her head dejectedly.

"I'm going to give it another try while I have the energy," Nedaria said, her eyes dull with the hopelessness of the task. "Don't go far. With you here, it may help draw him out."

"What? Ye want me to whisper in 'is ear? Tell me what ye're wantin' me to do," Morden grinned, trying to lighten the grave mood.

"Both of you...sit down near me and hold his hands, one on either side," she said.

Tondal kneeled to the ground, his armor lightly ringing as plates shifted. He looked indifferent about the whole affair. Morden looked at him, his left eyebrow raised to reveal an inquiring steely eye. Tondal felt Morden's curiosity boring into him.

"Everything will be okay. I know it will. He will come back to us," Tondal said.

"Ye know, I get a wee bit skeptical of ye're comfort with all these strange events we've been privy too, eh? Aren't ye a dark elf? Shouldn't ye be all death and misery?" Morden nudged Tondal with his elbow.

Tondal sighed and smiled at Morden.

"I'm as different to the dark elves as you are to the Rogues of the White Rose, Morden," Tondal said.

Morden's expression went dark for a moment at the remark before he turned to Nedaria.

"Let's get on with it then," he said.

Nedaria closed her eyes and rocked back and forth slightly, whispering words that neither Morden nor Tondal could understand.

With a scarred and rough hand, Morden squeezed Calliav's wrist. In an instant, Calliav's eyes opened, looking wild and frightened. He looked to see the three leaders of the Wayfarers Brotherhood looking down at him.

"Have I been gone long? I'm so glad you're safe. I could hear the explosion..." Calliav coughed uncontrollably, his throat dry and unaccustomed to use. Tondal opened a flask of water and tilted it to Calliav's lips. Calliav sipped some water, sat up, and looked around him in disbelief.

"Oh my. You're building it. Why you have faith in me is beyond my comprehension...as are many things it seems. I have been less than stable and reliable since we've met," Calliav said.

"Aye, true, but ye've never been wrong, friend," Morden reassured.

"You must continue to build this ship that will be as grand as any city on Norrath. Do not underestimate the scale," Calliav urged Morden, his face lengthening. "It was me that caused that explosion in the tunnel. I'm so glad you're alright...but, I did learn that these stones and materials we find with magical properties are very powerful when gathered in quantities. Above all, I found they pull my mind in one direction...west. We must find the Grozmok Stone. It is pivotal to this journey and this magical ore somehow. Have you found..."

Calliav's eyelids began to flutter and his chin dropped to his chest. Nedaria, having been listening to Calliav, let her mind's grip on Calliav slide. Before she should enter his mind to hold him awake, he was gone again.

Nedaria's face wrinkled with frustration, first at Calliav and then she shot an icy look to Morden.

"We need to talk, now! Let's move from him. I do not want him to hear this," she said strictly.

Morden looked at Tondal with surprise. Tondal, always wise and keeping out of tiffs between Morden and Nedaria, just shrugged back. All three moved beyond earshot of Calliav at the water's edge where the sea tickled the shore.

"I know exactly what Calliav is talking about Morden," Nedaria said with detectable frost.

"What exactly do ye mean?" Morden said cheekily, trying to bring a smile to Nedaria's face.

"Stop it. This is no time for jokes," Nedaria scolded him. "That feeling Calliav had of having his mind pulled in a direction..."

"What of it, Nedaria. Spit it out, hm?" Morden said

"I had that very same feeling myself once," she continued. "It happened when I was in the presence of the Grozmok Stone."

Chapter 4 - The Stone Unturned

Under a tent at the Wayfarers Brotherhood camp on the shores of Nedaria's Landing, a groan escaped from Calliav Giniuar's lips and his eyelids quivered.

"Morden, I think he's finally waking up," said Nedaria Debeian. She had been watching over Calliav for days, trying to guide him back to consciousness and out of his coma in any way she could. She tried potions offered by various shamans in the brotherhood as well as using her gift to see into and guide minds.

"I guess we need to chat before 'e comes to, eh?" Morden Rasp replied, walking over to Nedaria, lending her a hand to get her to her feet. She winced as she stood, putting her hands on her lower back and stretching.

"I've been sitting for so long. I hadn't realized. I suppose I'm getting old," Nedaria said.

"Ye're as young as the day I found ye hidin' with them bloody Kerran in Erud's Crossin', me dear," Morden smiled crookedly. "Good thing Erudites age slowly, eh?"

"Your flattery won't work with me, Morden. I'm not as easily won over as most," she replied with a hint of a smile.

"Aye, I do know that. Always a tough one. I suppose that's one reason I'm so fond of ye' always keeping me on me toes," Morden said. With a sideward nod, Morden motioned to Tondal Di'Xevar to head to the shore. Tondal walked with the grace and silence of a panther, despite his heavy plate armor. He didn't want to disturb Calliav.

A soft breeze from the sea wove between the three friends as they looked at each other, knowing the time had come to reveal the truth to Calliav.

"This 'as been coming for some time and we must be prepared to lose a friend over this, ye understand? I will handle the task of tellin' 'im," Morden said. "We might 'as well be ready for anythin'. I'm still not sure what that mage is capable of."

"You better believe you will be the one to tell him, Morden," Nedaria said sharply. "It was your idea to keep it from him."

Tondal just looked between the two of them. He had little to say about the matter.

Morden felt Tondal's indifference and eyed him.

"I suppose ye're not gonna say anythin', because ye think this was all meant to 'appen this way, eh?" Morden suggested.

"Aye," Tondal said with a shrug. Morden looked at both of them, sighed, and turned away. He walked up the grassy slope.

The mage had woken and was trying to sit up. When Morden reached the tent, he helped Calliav keep his balance by supporting the weak mage's back with his left hand. With a scarred right hand, Morden worked a flask out of his satchel and handed it to Calliav so he could drink some water. Calliav took a few sips before looking into Morden's eyes.

"What is troubling you, Morden?" Calliav asked in a raspy voice.

"I need to talk to ye, but I was goin' to wait until ye're fully awake, friend," Morden said. "And let me say, it's nice to 'ave ye back."

"No need to wait. Speak now. You have me curious. Remember too that you just never know how long I'm going to be awake," Calliav grinned.

Morden crouched down, sitting on his heels. His face was blank and cold. His eyes turned to the ground as he drew in a breath to speak.

"See, this is 'ow it is. Well...um...when ye first came to us to find that silly stone -- the Grozmok Stone -- we didn't know what to make of ye -- ranting and crazy and all that," Morden spoke slowly, carefully searching through his words. "We agreed to 'elp ye, knowing we could. In fact, we already 'ad."

Morden started picking blades of grass from the ground and rubbing them between his fingers, avoiding Calliav's eyes.

"Look at me Morden. What are you saying?" Calliav asked, his face masked with a cloud of disbelief. Morden lifted his eyes to Calliav.

"We 'ave the Grozmok Stone. We got our 'ands on it long before we met. We nicked it off them trolls at Broken Skull Rock," Morden said in a low voice.

Calliav's mouth dropped and he clutched his heart as though he felt it breaking apart. He looked to the shore, his glistening eyes pleading with Nedaria and Tondal to indicate it wasn't true. Both Nedaria and Tondal shamefully looked away from Calliav and turned to face the sea.

"Don't blame 'em. I told 'em to keep their traps shut, friend," Morden said. "If ye just give me ye're ear for a short spell, I'll tell ye 'ow we 'appened upon that stone and why I didn't tell ye sooner."

Calliav was frozen with a mix of emotions, but managed to nod. Morden moved to sit cross-legged in front of Calliav and began recounting the tale that brought the Grozmok Stone into Nedaria and Morden's hands.

Chapter 5 - Fulfilling a Promise

As the waves gently caressed the shores of Nedaria's Landing, the calm, rushing breeze was shattered by the hammering and clanging of the Wayfarers Brotherhood building the grand ship that would take them across the turbulent Abysmal Sea.

Under a tent at the brotherhood's camp up on the grass, Morden Rasp explained to Calliav Giniuar how he and Nedaria came across the Grozmok Stone. He hoped his mage friend would understand and forgive him for not telling him he had the very thing that Calliav had been seeking all of these months.

The tale Morden told was a lengthy one, beginning long ago.

In the Elder Age, a troll named Zraxth had a vision that saw the coming of one great and powerful troll, called the Grozmok, who would unite all of the trolls in Norrath with the aid of the power in the Grozmok Stone. The Grozmok would unleash terror across Norrath.

Over a period of years, the stone changed hands many times. First, the stone was stolen from the trolls in the Innothule Swamp by the Rallosian ogres, and then stolen by the Ykesha Clan of trolls. Another faction of trolls, Clan Broken Skull, did not believe the Ykesha Clan were destined to produce a troll strong enough to become the Grozmok and overpowered the Ykesha Clan, killing their leader and taking the Grozmok Stone.

Some time later, when the trolls in the swamps of Antonica reestablished themselves in Grobb, they robbed Clan Broken Skull of the stone once more. Then, the Broken Skull Clan returned again and took the Grozmok Stone -- its last known resting place.

Morden and Nedaria Debeian had been sailing the fog-suffocated seas near the Gulf of Gunthak on the Thorn of the White Rose when they heard that Clan Broken Skull invaded Grobb and took the Grozmok Stone.

In all of their adventures over the years, the story of the Grozmok Stone surfaced several times. Both of the seafaring friends were well aware of what the stone represented and that it might be capable of shifting the weight of power in Norrath. Morden vowed to find the Grozmok Stone and hide it forever to keep all of Norrath safe from the rule of evil gods.

Morden and Nedaria and a small crew of seven trusted adventurers sailed into the Gulf of Gunthak hidden by a thick veil of fog. Nedaria sat up on the bow with her mind keenly focused, eyes closed. It wasn't long before she opened her eyes and nodded to Morden.

"They are close. Everyone should be at the ready," Nedaria whispered, her words gliding on the heavy, still air. "They have it -- they have the Grozmok Stone."

In minutes, the crew of the Thorn of the White Rose heard the unmistakable creak of a strained hull rolling lazily through the water. Morden crouched, ready to spring as soon as the approaching boat crossed the bow of his ship. Two crewmates waited behind Morden, waiting for his commands.

The figure of a rickety ship with tattered sails emerged from the fog, eerily outlined like smudged charcoal on a gray canvas. Shadowy hulking figures moved about the boat -- clearly trolls -- who did not notice the ship coming into view on their starboard side.

Morden turned to the two behind him and nodded, pointing to the midship rail on the troll's boat. His crew nodded and waited for Morden's first move.

The decrepit boat inched past the bow of the Thorn of the White Rose. When the boat was in position, Morden silently leapt from the bow of his boat onto the railing, staying perfectly balanced on the three-inch rod of rusted iron. His crew followed. They all kept low and moved silently until they were close enough to smell the rotting reek of trolls' breath. Morden's crew flanked him.

Morden jumped down from the upper deck into the cockpit at the stern of the vessel and let loose a mighty bellow. The shock of his yell stunned the ten trolls that milled about the boat long enough for the blades of Morden and his crew to reduce them all to heaps of blood and gore.

"Ye stay 'ere, hm? Keep an eye on things while I go take a look in 'er hold," Morden said to his crew. "Yell if ye see something odd."

In less than a minute, Morden returned with a grin.

"How blasted stupid do ye have to be to 'ide a big bloody slab o' stone in burlap?" Morden grinned to his curious crewmates. "There it were, standing right in front me. Gonna need some 'elp luggin' it o'er to me boat."

After the Grozmok Stone was safely hidden on the Thorn of the White Rose, Morden made his crew promise never to speak of it again. The stone was never to be sold or uncovered lest it unleash a power that could bring Norrath into the hands of the evil gods and races.

As Ro, the Norrathian sun, began to set in Nedaria's Landing, Morden uttered the last words of his tale to Calliav and gave him a few moments to consider it all.

"Ye 'ave to understand Calliav... I 'ad no idea who ye were or what ye were about," Morden said, looking up into Calliav's eyes. "I didn't want to put the lives and fates of many Norrathians in your 'ands."

"It's okay, Morden. I understand your reasons now," Calliav said, pausing to think before he spoke again. "There is more to the Grozmok Stone prophecy, though. While the legend says that stone could bring power to the trolls, Zebuxoruk showed me it will do much more. That stone may very well change the face of Norrath. Just look around... we have trolls working with halflings and light elves working with dark ones."

"Aye, true," Morden said with pride. "But what of the Grozmok -- the one troll that would unite all trolls and unleash havoc across the lands?"

"I believe the stone could give the Grozmok power, but now is not that time," Calliav said. ""The stone has changed over the years somehow and has an even greater purpose than everyone originally thought. I believe the stone will lead us to the evil power I've seen in my visions that could topple all of Norrath -- troll and all races alike. But, I need to study it.

Just then, two of Morden's most trusted friends laid the Grozmok Stone next to Calliav.

Chapter 6 - The Pantheon Displeased

Kizrak the Tyrant, a champion of Rallos Zek, settled down for the night on a bed of concrete in Oggok, shunning creature comforts. In the damp cold he lay, surrounded by dark stone walls with no blanket, no light. His only solace came from the pinching plates of armor under his back.

As he did every night, Kizrak closed his eyes and relaxed his mind so he could properly focus on his prayers. Having had an affinity for his god for hundreds of years, he found it easy to sense Rallos Zek as he prayed. He fancied that, on occasion, he would have dialogues with his god.

As the clammy world around him faded from awareness, he felt himself fall into a state of ethereal openness. He freed his mind's voice and began his prayer, asking Rallos Zek for the strength to continue to help any chosen warriors find their way to the Realm of Heroes through worship and war.

As he recited the prayer, he felt something out of the ordinary. In his mind, the vast universe that Kizrak prayed into began to close in on itself. He felt a strong presence. A booming voice crashed through his subconscious. It was Rallos Zek himself.

"There is no longer a place for mortals in the hearts or minds of the gods! The insolence! The arrogance of those that prayed to us and then dared to enter our homes and attempt to kill us!" the God of War bellowed. "We turn our backs on you foul mortals. We gave life. We imbued our children with our own powers and we answered prayers. Well, no more!"

"My almighty Warlord, what is your will? What would you have me do?" Kizrak asked through his thoughts.

"There is nothing to be done. We have chosen to ignore the prayers, the sniveling, the begging," Rallos Zek roared. "Mortals believe themselves powerful as gods, so much so that they challenge us. Us! So be it. If they are so powerful, they have no need of us! Henceforward, the prayers of our despicable children on Norrath will be ignored!"

As quickly as Rallos Zek's presence came, it left. Kizrak's mind was immediately silent.

Kizrak sat up with a start and opened his eyes. He knew all too well what the ire of the gods could bring upon mortals. He had watched his own brethren, the ogres, reduced to slovenliness and ignorance for daring to attempt to usurp the power of gods.

The pantheon of Norrath had finally come to agreement on an issue -- that the arrogance of mortals, their own children, must be punished.

Kizrak, a devout warrior, wanted to let all of the foul mortals of Norrath know what they had done. He left Oggok that night and wandered into the Feerrott toward someone he had all but forgotten.

"Drizda Tunesinger, I have a message for you and the Antonican bards to pass along to all Norrathians," Kizrak said.

Drizda, a messenger for the League of Antonican Bards for years, was extremely taken aback. She had been dodging ogre bouncers for years in the Feerrott while delivering messages. Now cornered by Kizrak, she was not about to argue.

"What words would you have me spread across the lands?" she said.

"You tell the arrogant and proud of Norrath that the pantheon is angry. Mortals have become too bold in entering the planes of our gods. The prayers of all Norrathians will no longer be answered. Mortals will be punished for their arrogance," Kizrak bellowed.

"This cannot be true! What of those who pray and give offerings to their gods? What of the devout and loyal?" Drizda wept.

"Rallos Zek himself told me. The actions of the many have outweighed the efforts of the few. Tell them -- tell them all! The children of the pantheon must walk alone," Kizrak said, abruptly turning and walking away.

Drizda quickly journeyed to Freeport to tell Felisity Starbright about Kizrak's news. Felisity considered the information for a moment and then set to work to spread the news. She had already heard rumors that week that some paladins in the Hall of Truth who called upon Mithaniel Marr for strength and guidance were getting nothing but silence in return.

With great sadness and worry in her heart, Felisity could not deny the validity of the tale. With the help of her students in the Marsheart's Chords, over one thousand letters were crafted and put in satchels to be delivered to every city in Norrath by her network of bards.

Chapter 7 - Evil Beyond the Currents

As the bevy of shipwrights and Wayfarers Brotherhood crew readied to take the hulls of the enormous ship in Nedaria's Landing out into deeper waters to finish the final details, Morden Rasp stood at the bow of one of the hulls. He looked proud. Wisps of chestnut hair, free of his leather hair tie, wafted around his coarse face.

Nedaria Debeian was warmed by watching Morden stand there, knowing he was lost in great memories of adventures -- ones she had shared with him.

"I been thinkin' lass," Morden said to Nedaria without turning to see she was standing behind him. "I've got me an idea for a name o' this 'ere boat. What do ye think o' Queen of Thorns, eh?"

"I'm supposing you believe that everyone in our brotherhood is somehow a thorn in someone's side, hm?" she said smiling.

"Aye, mostly mine. I love 'em, but . . . I'm just not a leader -- not like they expect me to be. I'm just an adventurer findin' 'is way in this world, ye know?" Morden said thoughtfully. "I don't know 'ow we ended up 'ere . . . life used to be so simple when we 'ad no one else. I 'ave no regrets, as ye know, but I'm not sure I'm ready for what Calliav says might be down the road."

"The time for your selfishness has passed, so has the era of you proving yourself to those who doubted you. Face it, friend. You may have grown up," Nedaria said, with a grin. "We should embrace this opportunity and guide those who want to join us. We have a lot to offer as a result of our experience in this world."

"Don't ye go trying to be funny now," Morden jibed. "But I suppose ye're right. Bein' selfish was a lot easier, though. Ha."

Slowly, the smile he wore peeled from his face, the glint wore from his eyes.

"I don't think I can do it, Nedaria. I don't think I can be the hero these folk think I am. I'm just an ole barbarian lookin' for adventure 'ere and there. I don't want to disappoint 'em," Morden said, his eyes passing over freshly glossed planks.

"They love and follow you for who you are now, Morden," Nedaria said. "They expect no more from you than you've already given -- your charm, confidence, friendship, and love of exploration. They idolize you only because they can see that being outcast is not the end of the world, that they can make it on their own and do great and wonderful things."

"Bah, enough of the flattery," Morden interrupted, the glimmer returning to his gaze. "You'll make me too soft-hearted, darned, meddlin' Erudite. Ye sure are pretty though."

Nedaria shook her head and smiled.

"Just keep your wits about you, Morden," she said as she turned to leave and inspect the ship.

Morden stayed on the bow to consider their conversation. He turned in time to see Calliav Giniuar walking toward him.

"'Ello mage. Always grand to see ye up an' about," Morden said.

"Thank you, Morden. Do you have a moment?" Calliav asked.

"Certainly. Why don't ye come up 'ere and 'ave a look at this view and we'll chat a while," Morden said.

Calliav walked up to Morden and stood next to him, both of them watching the whitecaps foam and fade as the waves churned on the Abysmal Sea.

"I know where we're going and no one has been there, Morden," Calliav spoke suddenly. Morden put his left elbow on the rail and faced Calliav, staying silent.

"We're going to be going to a part of the Abysmal Sea that has never been navigated. It's never even been breached. That's part of the Grozmok Stone's secret and why I needed to find it. It turns out it's . . . well, in rudimentary terms, it's a compass," Calliav said, waiting for Morden to grow a look of a surprise, but it didn't come.

"Aye, go on," Morden said, his eyes fixed on Calliav's.

"We must discuss the possible route across the sea. Please, Morden, only invite your most trusted brothers or sisters," he added. "This is an adventure that is not to be treated lightly . . . all of our lives may be at risk."

"So ye keep saying. I've not seen a trifle of danger 'round 'ere," Morden said.

"It's not here . . . it's in a place yet undiscovered, a new land we've never seen," Calliav said, slowly. "Morden, hear me. Look at me . . . we will see things and creatures none could dream of -- and I know you have seen a lot -- but not this . . . not this at all."

"I really 'ate it when ye talk in riddles, Calliav. I don't want to say, but, truth be told, it's startin' to rub me the wrong way," Morden smiled.

"I want to tell you everything, but some things will have to be seen to be believed, even for me," Calliav said. "I know I've sounded crazy, and said many a strange thing, but what we will find will be stranger still."

"So, what do we do now?" Morden asked.

"Collect your best navigators and shipwrights," Calliav said. "We need to start plotting a course that will take us deep into the Abysmal Sea. The time for our journey is nearly upon us."

Chapter 8 - Journey to Taelosia

In the dead of night, the crew of the Queen of Thorns let loose the lines of the mighty ship. It crept out from Nedaria's Landing and into the Abysmal Sea.

Morden Rasp, Nedaria Debeian, Tondal Di'Xevar, and Calliav Giniuar stood at the helm, watching the Grozmok Stone float on a magical axis. When the stone turned, the crew steered the boat in the same direction.

As they got into the heart of the currents of the Abysmal Sea, the water churned and whirled around them. Waves crashed across the mighty bows of the ship, and eddies pulled at it from underneath. The ship creaked and groaned from the strain of the angry sea.

They sailed through the night and into the day. The sea did not let up, but got worse the farther they journeyed.

Morden consulted Nedaria and Calliav several times, fearing they may be leading the crew to its death. Without hesitation, they both told Morden they must press on -- that they had to weather the seas.

The Grozmok Stone led them west, then north, then west again, and then it guided the ship around to the south, and east again. Morden became more skeptical with each change in course, but commanded his crew to obey the will of the stone.

Morden, wet with sea spray at the helm, felt a frenzied tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Calliav, clutching his robes about him as the wind tore across the deck.

"We must stop here!" Calliav yelled over the wind's roar. "We must anchor here and send scouts out east. There is land there. I can feel it. We are here!"

"Ye want me to be sendin' me best people out into THAT?" Morden said as he pointed to the hectic chop of the sea.

"We have magic to protect them through the seas, Morden. We've been working on it for months. It does work and now is the time to use it. We also need to set up buoys around the ship to protect it from the currents," Calliav said. "We pieced together some of the ore we've been finding in such a way that it provides a protective barrier for us. The brotherhood is ready to set them up. It's all been planned."

Morden raised an eyebrow. He was skeptical, but he was not one to shy away from great challenges. He'd never had the advantage of so much help before or had so many scholars of magic at his disposal. He was starting to warm to the idea.

"Ye really are mad, Calliav. But, alright. I will let you lead this expedition into the abyss," Morden said.

It took several hours to anchor the ship and as each buoy was laid in the water -- thanks to the skill and ability of the iksar and froglok crew -- the waters around the ship calmed and a shimmering field of magic enveloped the Queen of Thorns.

Three crewmen were chosen to venture out in a small boat to find land. Morden quietly admired them for their fearlessness and loyalty as they pushed off from the docks in a hefty rowboat, their oars moving in unison until they disappeared into the dark sea.

It was a full day before a battered boat emerged back through the protective barrier around the Queen of Thorns. Only one crewman remained of the three. It was Ebbo Driblot, a bleeding troll struggling with one oar and wheezing with every breath. Several crewmembers dove into the sea to heave him aboard the ship. He was fatally injured, but his eyes were languid, almost pleased.

"We founds it. Dere is land dere. Not far. Dere a pretty peoples dere, but also sometin else. Dey attack me and crew. One stay on shore, one dead, and me come back to tell yous. Dey caught me before me gots in da boat," he said. "Dey beat me, laughed, and left Ebbo for dead, but me gots to boat."

Morden was standing next to Ebbo, his hand on his shoulder, while others tended to his gaping wounds.

"Who are 'they'?" Morden asked.

"Most evil tings. Dey most ugliest, dark, and deadly beasts," Ebbo said. "Dey hurt de pretty peoples and me. Don't go dere without lots of peoples. Won't survive," Ebbo coughed and started to choke on the blood that filled his lungs and throat. He lifted a great, green quivering hand and Morden grasped it with his own as Ebbo's life washed from his body.

Several days later, a wood elf ranger appeared in Nedaria's Landing -- the first to make a successful trip by the Farstone magic back to Antonica from the Queen of Thorns. There were others that tried, but they were not as lucky in reaching the intended destination. The magic around the great ship city was chaotic somehow.

Relieved, Dadein Shadowbow checked his arms, legs, toes, and slender, pointed ears to be sure he was all there.

Magus Wenla was startled. It had been some days since he'd last seen those who set sail on the Queen of Thorns to the Abysmal Sea. Slowly, others in the Wayfarers Brotherhood that were preoccupied by other tasks at the docks recognized Dadein and rushed over to hear any news he may have.

"Well, what of it? Where is everyone? Where did they go? What has happened? Come on! Tell us all! We've been in such a state wondering what has transpired on the seas!" Wenla urged.

"The news is mixed, my friends. It was a terrifying journey as we followed the will of the Grozmok Stone. The seas were rough and treacherous and there were moments we thought we may not survive, but then we found our way to some battered shores," Dadein said. "We stumbled onto a new continent, named Taelosia. There is a quiet race of Norrathian to be found there. You must know that we found much more than a land to find adventure and exploration."

"Gracious me! That is some news! How could we not see a whole continent? An entire race? That's preposterous!" Wenla added. The onlookers all murmured melodically with tones of surprise and doubt.

"There is so much more, friends. . .so much death and destruction," Dadein said, his eyes narrowing. "There is something else there. . .or rather some others. They are the foulest creatures. They cannot be of this world."

Everyone around moved in closer, not wanting to miss a pronounced breath of the wood elf.

"Something terrible has happened on Taelosia. We sent scouts out to learn more about what has happened there and have already lost most of them. So, now I've come to tell you and the rest of Norrath a very important message," Dadein said.

"What is it? Don't just stand there!" Wenla shouted above the crowd.

"Make ready, everyone. Gather all who are able and willing to fight," Dadein said. "Norrath is at war. . ."

Omens of War

The Wayfarers Brotherhood is considering meeting the Muramites on their home turf to end their tyrannical ways once and for all, in a place called the Realm of Discord.

The Brotherhood is still puzzled by the realm, unsure if it will take the risk of going there. However, this team of wayfarers is doing what it can to learn from the Taelosians about the dark lands. There has been talk of preparing to build a portal in order to open a way to Discord - much like the Taelosians once did, except this time Norrath would have the advantage of preparation.

Taelosians have told the Wayfarers Brotherhood that the lands of Discord are most surely a twisted and volatile place - even the Muramites seem to fear them. Word tells of constant war there.

The Muramites have been heard commenting that Taelosia is a welcome break from the chaotic Realm of Discord, with its crazed creatures and dangerous magic. Nothing there is at it seems.

Everyone has now learned of Mata Muram, the leader of the legion - a terrible creature seeking to build the ultimate army by any means necessary, including stealing beings from other worlds.

Mata Muram is much older than almost every member of his army, and well protected. He is described by Muramites as unmerciful, powerful, a worthy leader - although there are rumors that he is obsessed with revenge against someone. Some Muramites have been overheard describing Mata Muram as some sort of dragon.

No one knows when the Realm of Discord and its counterpart, the Realm of Order, came into existence. In both are rulers that are all-knowing and all-seeing, yet are never seen or touched - much like the Nameless.

Passage to Discord
The Priests of Discord in Norrath believe they have been granted a gift. A unique knowledge has been bestowed upon them which they believe was granted as a reward for preaching the way of Discord. That gift, they claim, is the knowledge of a way to a world that is enveloped by Discord itself — an ethereal poison that wreaks havoc and strife upon all it touches.

World of Kuua
The world known as Kuua was once a relatively normal place, like Norrath, until the influence of Discord seeped into it. There were a vast number of races in the lands, the most civilized being the dragorn. After the dark taint on the world, all races began fighting each other with fervor. The wars created a darkening sky filled with ash and embers. The dragorns stopped their travel and were called home to fortify their walls and the city from all outside influences. Little did they know that even the dragorns would begin to turn on each other.

The Dragorn
The dragorns are noble creatures who believe they were carved from of the heartiest earth and stone by the great dragon, Dranik. As a civilization, the dragorns valued courage above all else — that was, at least, until the influence of Discord drew a shade of darkness over their world of Kuua and opened the door for Mata Muram’s legion. Throughout their history, the dragorns led simple lives. The serfs kept their city and kinsfolk with full bellies and armored bodies. The warriors and knights often made courageous expeditions and patrols from their great city of Dranik to the regal palace to the northeast, fighting beasts and creatures that threatened to overcome their lands. There is a number of dragorn who were exiled from Dranik before and after the influence of Discord caused fighting among the race. The exiles are often on the outskirts of the city in the caves in Dranik’s Scar or other outlying areas. They have attempted to organize and overthrow the high council several times with no success. Some of them feel they were wrongly accused and wish to return home. Some dragorn, most of the best fighters in the lands, were blackmailed or brainwashed into joining Mata Muram’s legion.

Mata Muram and his Legion
Mata Muram is a dragon slave trader that has great strength and mind powers. He is but one slave trader in an organization of many. All of the various armies of Discord that are part of the greater enslavement force riding on the front edge of the shroud of Discord — a rat race for enslavement acquisitions. Mata Muram conquers a large number of races and inducts the very best into his army. He sells the rest to other worlds.

The Riftseekers - Pyrilen and Gelidran
The riftseekers are the minions of an even greater planar race that have been granted to Mata Muram for travel between worlds and to seed Discord into as many realms as possible. The riftseekers have the ability to hone in on rifts in space, no matter how small, and have the magical means to force them open and sustain them. These creatures are chaotic and do like to cause trouble. Keeping their allegiance is difficult at the best of times. And if they are crossed, there will be trouble.

Dragons of Norrath

A series of events has transpired across the world of Norrath and the familiar faces of Firiona Vie and her nemesis Lanys T’Vyl return to find themselves at the forefront of the events. Unbeknownst to them, a dark influence has seeped into the world of Norrath causing new tensions to arise and conflicts to intensify as the dawn of a new age emerges. The Age of War is upon the people of Norrath and heroes return in this ultimate, unending battle between good and evil.

The Dragons of Norrath are angry. The meddling and arrogant beings of Norrath have stumbled upon the ancient nesting grounds of dragonkind in the fiery land of Lavastorm, and now the curious, the greedy, and the power hungry converge on the sacred grounds where mortals were never meant to tread. But something is happening within the ancestral nests of dragonkind, and the consequences of the intrusion could imperil all of Norrath, good and evil, dragon and mortal alike...

Exploring Dragons of Norrath
The discovery of the dragons' nesting grounds has attracted a host of Norrathians. Some have arrived to explore, some to exploit, but none are prepared for the fury they are poised to unleash on the world. In the scorched land of Lavastorm, three camps have been established to penetrate the secrets that lie within the uncovered nest. Each camp tasks it needs completed to push further into nest, and each has very different motivations. You may choose which to aid.

The Camps

The Dark Reign
Lanys T'Vyl, the repudiated child of Innoruuk the god of hate, seeks vengeance against the enemies responsible for her downfall, especially the chosen of Tunare, Firiona Vie. But her thirst for dominance knows no bounds. After years of torture in the realm of her father since her disgrace, she has gathered her followers and built a new army -The Dark Reign- setting her sights much higher than the mere destruction of her enemies. Lanys believes the ancient nest of the dragons holds the power she can use to depose her father and claim his mantle to rule all!

Norrath's Keepers
Firiona Vie has returned to stand against the spreading evil. Having recently recovered her precious staff, the Lifeguide, and with the balance between good and evil now threatened, she has pledged to restore it and oppose Lanys T'Vyl by gathering the forces known as Norrath's Keepers. Norrath's Keepers seek to explore the nest to determine if it poses a threat to Norrath. Distrust of the dragons is high, and though she is hesitant, if indeed it is found that this place is indeed a danger to the balance, Firiona has vowed to destroy it if necessary.

Wayfarers Brotherhood
Though Taelosia still occupies the Wayfarers Brotherhood, Morden Rasp keeps a careful eye on the growing strife between good and evil on Norrath. This latest news from Lavastorm, however, has piqued his interest enough for him to dispatch a contingent of his Wayfarers to the area. If there is profit to be made in this situation, all the better to continue funding the Wayfarers' work in Taelosia. The Wayfarers' camp stands between the two opposing sides of good and evil, where profit is highest. They offer tasks that can improve player faction with either of the two other camps.

Dragons of Norrath has several instanced zones that are accessible by accepting tasks accepted from these camps. Some of these zones are reached only after completing a series of tasks. As you gain favor with a particular camp, tasks of greater importance will be assigned to you, bringing you ever closer to the hidden truth of what has happened in the dragons' nest.

Depths of Darkhollow

Norrathians have discovered lost continents and regions, a moon, and even another realm, but they have never seen the depths beneath their feet -- a place called Darkhollow. In this place where daylight has never shown its grace, there is a constant struggle to survive. Even the Duke of Below, Brell Serilis, saw its horrors and would not create a home for his children within it. In EverQuest Depths of Darkhollow, you will encounter a cavernous world where the unexpected should be expected. You will see shades of the familiar, like the gnomeworks, machines that harbor the souls of the lost Ak'Anon mining Expedition 328. Deeper still, a strong and powerful breed of drachnid, half dark elf, half arachnid, can be seen skittering about their sickly hive. And the echoing howls of the progeny of Norrath's first werewolves haunt this lightless world.

The unfamiliar is also present. The shiliskin, an ancient race of intelligent amphibious creatures, have been in Darkhollow since the beginning of Norrath's time. They overcame their inhospitable surroundings and grew into a strong civilization. Sadly, a terrible calamity brought their great nation to an end, creating the broken and battered society they are now. Throughout the caverns, plants and creatures have adapted and evolved for thousands of years, changed more so by the tainted waters running in rivers and into the great lake Korlach. A new genus of fungus men lumber about, and bloodthirsty hunters lurk beneath the surface of the lake. In the humid haze above the great lake Korlach, lights flicker at the height of a great spire. Few dare look at it for long. There is an unspeakable evil that lives there, one that can claim the soul.

History of the Shiliskin Empire
The shiliskin first began to record their history around the year 2000, although at the time they were spread throughout Darkhollow in a network of warring nationstates. One prophet, a withered shiliskin named Jarzarrad, appeared early in shiliskin recorded history and was thought to have been granted immortality by the Korlach, a mighty leviathan beneath Darkhollow's great lake, so he might serve as the creature's speaker. Near 4000, Jarzarrad, in his thousandth year of life, came to serve as the personal advisor for a war chief known as Vogan Sillgar. Jarzarrad prophesized that Vogan's primary general, Jayan, would betray the war chief by spawning a child, a young warrior who would eventually kill Vogan and take his place.

Although Jayan vowed to never betray Vogan in such a way, the war chief remained impassive. In an effort to prevent Jarzarrad's prophesy from coming to pass, Vogan condemned Jayan to death by sacrificing him to the Korlach. Unfortunately for Vogan, Jayan was swallowed whole by the Korlach only to be belched out on a deserted beach to the west. While in the Korlach's hollow stomach, Jayan spawned an offspring, a young shiliskin named Illsalin.

Knowing they could never return to their old nation-state, Jayan fled with Illsalin to a neighboring shiliskin kingdom. There they were taken in as slaves and sold to a gladiator broker. Illsalin grew up in the arenas, miraculously surviving battle after battle until he became a young adult and managed to organize a revolt and attempt a daring escape. Through his strategies and success, slaves rallied around Illsalin and he soon became their leader. Indeed, the mere presence of his army would often cripple any opposing force that stood against him, as most slave conscripts quickly fled to his side of the battle line.

After years of struggle, Illsalin did fulfill Jarzarrad's prophesy and defeated Vogan and his army. Illsalin then succeeded in uniting the shiliskin nation-states, proclaiming the outpost south of the Corathus Creep to be their new home. The outpost grew into a capital city and soon the city itself became synonymous with its ruler and was simply named 'Illsalin.'

The Reign of Illsalin, the Gladiator King (4500)
Illsalin prolonged his life with dark magic and an unnatural thirst for conquest, enabling him to lead the newly formed Shiliskin Empire for the first few hundred years of its existence. During this time, the shiliskin displaced many of the other races. The werewolf clans were driven back into their old ancestral territories west of Lake Korlach.

Jarzarrad, the prophet who foretold Illsalin's rise to power, was exiled for his loyalty to Vogan. Normally Jarzarrad would have been executed outright, but he was spared due to the truth of his prophesies and that he had ironically made Illsalin's birth possible. After his exile, Jarzarrad traveled to the east of Lake Korlach and has remained there in relative seclusion ever since.

As Illsalin grew and prospered, the shiliskin deathshed priests learned to use the local underwater life, called nargilor coral, to fuel their incantations and augment their rituals. With this newfound power, they were able to venture into the Korlach's lair and lull the beast into submission. The Korlach, previously thought to be an uncontrollable force of nature, became the personal guardian of the Shiliskin Empire. Even as the Shiliskin Empire grew more technologically advanced, the shamanistic deathshed priests retained their place in society as the keepers of the Korlach.

With the Korlach now under control, the shiliskin were free to colonize the lake's edge without fear of retribution. Lake districts such as Malgrinnor and Xill appeared and prospered during this time, fueling the spread of the Shiliskin Empire. Illsalin died in 4812 and three emperors followed before Draygun ascended to rule Illsalin.

The Fall of Xill (5200)
Many years into Emperor Draygun's rule, the shiliskin began to grow suspicious of the lights appearing in the great spire above the lake. They could faintly see a building carved into the stone at the cavern's height and it appeared to be near completion. Draygun organized a battalion to crush whoever had arrived to take residence in Darkhollow. The battalion never returned.

More angered than afraid, Draygun amassed an army to rush the unknown interlopers once and for all. While the army gathered outside the gates of Illsalin, a horde of drachnids burrowed into the nearby and undefended lake city of Xill. A bloodbath ensued. Every shiliskin in Xill was slain, drained, or dragged back to the drachnid hive to be cocooned for 'later.'

The War of Four Crests (5250)
The Fall of Xill sparked the War of Four Crests, so named because it eventually involved four armies. With the shiliskin armies assembled and fully aware of the drachnid menace, the shiliskin generals took a much more cautious approach toward the new forces that threatened their home.

For the next hundred years a long series of skirmishes unfolded between the Agents of Dreadspire and the Shiliskin Empire. The werewolves, always eager for war, joined the struggle with the Shadowmane Clan aligning with drachnids under the command of Master Vule the Silent Tear and the Ragepaw Clan moving behind the shiliskin ranks. Even after years of struggle, the conflict yielded no decisive victor. About twenty-five years into the War of the Four Crests, a charismatic advisor rose to power in Illsalin. This advisor, a crippled sage named Bodrak, spread the belief that the key to defeating the drachnid hordes was to master their own necromantic magic and use it against them. Draygun, the current shiliskin emperor, followed this advice and began a fervent study of necromancy. Shortly after Draygun founded a school dedicated to drachnid necromancy, Bodrak disappeared from Illsalin. Although Bodrak was never seen again, his skin was found draped in a crumpled pile on the shores of Lake Korlach.

Around this time, the Korlach leviathan turned on Illsalin, smashing through the city's walls and carving a wake of destruction through the city itself. Although it remains unclear why exactly the Korlach leviathan turned on its former masters, many believe that it became angered by the shiliskin priests' slow gravitation towards the drachnid school of necromancy. Others believe that the creature in the spire may have promised the beast freedom if it turned on its shiliskin captors. And still others believe that the Korlach is simply a force of nature that was never meant to be controlled.

The Fall of Illsalin (5275)
As the drachnids spilled over the walls of Illsalin, Draygun turned to the city's last resort, a powerful artifact known as Shadowspine. Shadowspine was an ancient spell book recovered from a raid on the drachnid hive. The book contained powerful spells and Draygun believed it held the key to turning back the drachnid invasion. Unbeknownst to Draygun however, the book was a twisted entity capable of pulling those who opened it into its pages.

When Draygun opened the book, its power spread throughout the city and cursed Illsalin's defenders and the drachnids to undeath. Draygun was strong enough to achieve rudimentary control of the book, and he used it to raise himself as a lich and command the other undead throughout the city.

Despite this control, the book is now slowly bending Draygun to its will. With each spell that Draygun casts from Shadowspine, he slides closer and closer to insanity and servitude. For now however, Draygun retains his free will and continues to defend Illsalin against invaders. He lords over the undead city with Shadowspine close by his side.

The surviving shiliskin forces fell back to Malgrinnor, the empire's last standing fortress in the east of Lake Korlach. Although the shiliskin are far from extinct, their armies are scattered and demoralized to the point that they no longer pose an obstacle to the evil master in the great Dreadspire Keep above the lake. Werewolves and Norrath

Werewolf Origins
The werewolf has existed in Norrath as long as most other races have, but was found only in Darkhollow for some time. These first feral werewolves, called wurines, credit the Great Wuria with their creation -- the mother of all werewolves. She is considered a spirit of the dark wilds and less of a god. She is the provider of the beasts they hunt and feed on and the source of their strengths. The werewolves learned to grow and survive in the dark and dangerous underground world around them. They have the gift of intelligence, are motivated and social, but not all equal. They are feral creatures with finely honed instincts and survival skills. For several hundred years, no one on the surface of Norrath had ever seen a werewolf. It wasn't until an expedition of Qeynosian miners breached the barrier of Darkhollow that the first werewolf was seen and the first human bitten. The werewolves attacked the foreign expedition party and killed all but three who suffered nearlethal bites -- Patrim Gallowtrow, Brendin Fardon, and Wendal Meen were their names. They manage to survive the bites and flee to the surface to later become the kinsfolk of the werewolves of Darkhollow, the half-human, half-werewolf breed that transformed under the light of the moon. It was only a matter of days before they all went through the first transformation.

This new breed of werewolf became known as the Clan of the White Fangs. They considered themselves closest in blood to a true werewolf through the father's bloodlines. It was Patrim Gallowtrow who bit Sentry Alchin, the friend of Sentry Joanna in Rathe Mountains, who became one of the White Fangs. The White Fangs were arrogant, aristocratic, and were somewhat consumed with their power and gifts.

Later, the generations of White Fangs in Norrath became muddied with mixed blood of the various races of Norrath as they mated in human form. This third breed or tribe of werewolf became known as the Dusk Leapers -- the mutts of the werewolves. They lived on the fringes of civilization and often plotted against it to rule over it and their cousins, the White Fangs.

Meanwhile, among the wurines down below, social conflicts that have lasted thousands of years continue unresolved.
As with any intelligent creature with a measure of individuality and the capacity for ideas, the werewolves do not always agree or follow the same path. There are two tribes in Darkhollow:

Shadowmanes
Created by Matriarch Shyra, the Shadowmanes prefer a more matriarchal social structure. They believe the females have the closest spiritual ties to the Great Wuria and seek the matriarch's guidance and approval. The Shadowmanes can be characterized as a more spiritual and intellectual clan. While they have a matriarch, there are internal politics that dictate what each member of the clan must accomplish in their commune. They struggle against their innate primal instincts as they have some desire for peace and tranquility, even though they live in such a volatile region. They want to find a balance that allows them some sophistication and spirituality. They abhor the purely uncivilized animalistic ways of the Ragepaws, finding them base and disgusting.

Ragepaws
The Ragepaws believe in the predatory nature of being a wurine and organize themselves by the strength of the alpha male of the group. They shun and hold contempt for any political or high-level social musings that their counterparts have. Their lives are fairly simple -- to survive and not allow the Shadowmanes to overcome their ideals or get in the way of their chief philosophy: kill or be killed. They have been led for hundreds of years by the brute strength and will of Bloodeye. The Norrathian Perspective on Werewolves When the first werewolves that were created by wurine-bitten humans began to walk the lands of Norrath, new conflicts arose. By day, the werewolf could comfortably walk among humans in human form. At night, they could transform into a fearsome creature, half-human, half-wolf, with an unnatural destructive rage and strength. They prowled the wilds and hunted, killing anything in their path. These werewolves roamed the wilds of the Karanas, the Faydarks, or wherever they felt free. A few Norrathians, touched by the terror of werewolves, chose to band together to thwart the danger and protect their families. They call themselves the Fangbreakers, a relatively quiet society that spans several generations and reaches far across the lands of Norrath. The Fangbreakers recognize each other quietly and trust very few. For centuries they have protected their organization from being infiltrated by werewolves posing as concerned citizens and they prefer to keep it that way. Nul Aleswiller has been the leader of the Fangbreakers for 500 years. They were originally employed by the people of the Plains of the Karanas to protect the farms and lands from the threat of werewolf attacks.

Bunu Stoutheart, Fixxin Followig, and Cory Bumbleye can be considered the coleaders of the Fangbreakers, having also lived in the Karanas for hundreds of years, keeping the werewolves at bay. Wurines' Conflicts and Civil War (4300) Until Matriarch Shyra claimed to have spoken to the Great Wuria, their great mother, through divination, each pack of wurine lived separately. But this matriarch preached a new way of life -- one of spiritual fulfillment, order, and worship to their mother. Many joined together to follow Matriarch Shyra, becoming members of the Shadowmane clan. The feral wurines then banded together and formed the Ragepaw Clan. Soon after, Matriarch Shyra created the Lodge of the Fangs, a rudimentary court for all wurines. The departure from the old ways incensed the feral wurine, the Ragepaws, and a civil war ensued -- The War of the West Tunnels -- over philosophy and territory that lasted 20 years, until the wurines accepted that they would never agree, and instead would learn to coexist to survive Darkhollow. Ragepaw Clan elders were added to the Lodge of the Fangs, which made larger rulings and decisions for both clans when necessary.

The Choice
About 200 years ago, a dark master that threatened the lives of all the wurines offered a grim proposal to Matriarch Shyra. Align with him in his great castle above the lake, or die. In exchange for their loyalty and service, the master would spare the Ragepaws their annihilation as well. There would be benefits to their service -- material wealth, comforts, and protection from the shiliskin, sporali and the other elements of Darkhollow. Shyra took the proposal to the Lodge of the Fangs and they discussed the matter. It wasn't long before the notion of safe haven and access to surface-world comforts won them over. They agreed. The Lodge of the Fangs summoned the alphas of the Ragepaws and they were told the news of the decision to preserve the wurine race and serve the lord of the keep.

The Ragepaws were chagrinned and refused to exist in servitude in any way to the master whom they believed intended to deceive and exploit the pride and strength of the wurines. This master who never showed his face represented everything that was dark in their world, and they would not succumb. But they would not fight against it out of fear. They remain in the Snarlstone Dens in the West Lake Korlach region.
Today, the Shadowmanes still serve the master, building and guarding his fortress above the waters of Lake Korlach. They accept this duty to preserve and advance their place in the world of Darkhollow. The Ragepaws remain in the darkness and continue to do what they have done for much of their lives -- survive and preserve the true feral ways of the wurine.

Genesis of the Sporali (4900)
Around 4900, a sentient fungus spore settled into the groundwater through a pool in the Clan Runnyeye goblin lair before it eventually found its way through some cracks into Darkhollow. The spore was greatly affected by the tainted waters of Darkhollow and evolved in strange and fantastic ways to become a sporali. It grew and spread over 200 years until the first sporali colonies were formed. The colonies began to harvest corathus, a strange resource secreted by the corathus worms which they learned had caused the sporali to grow and evolve at an accelerated rate. The shiliskin also harvested corathus and viewed the sporali as a threat to their supplies.

Before the shiliskin could drive the sporali into extinction, the sporali shamans pooled their corathus stocks and fed it to a single spore king. Thus, Antraygus was born. The corathus made Antraygus near invulnerable, and any sporelings he created were also unnaturally resilient. Antraygus and his offspring lead a fierce resistance against the shiliskin raiders who eventually forewent corathus altogether and turned their attention to gathering nargilor, the coral with magical properties that grows below Illsalin. During the Shiliskin-Sporali wars, the sporali bred many plants to use against the shiliskin, including mindspore and retch weed. They still exist today.

Ak'Anon Expedition 328 (5100+)
About a century and half ago, King Ak'Anon sponsored a drill expedition to seek out mithril deep below the Steamfont mines. Unfortunately, Mithril Expedition 328 was fraught with disaster. They were the first to use the great new invention, the Burrownizer, a powerful drill that could dig deep into the earth, carrying gnomes and clockworks within it. During the expedition, far below the surface the Burrownizer's rubble-sweeping mechanism jammed, leaving the craft unable to maintain a usable tunnel in its wake. The gnomish engineers soon realized that the only way to go was down, so that's where the drill expedition went. The gnomes traveled for two and half years at a fifteen-degree downward angle before eventually crashing into Corathus Creep in Darkhollow.

The gnomes calculated that they were somewhere under Antonica, likely beneath the Nektulos forest. Their drill was hopelessly smashed and they had no way to contact the surface. Soon the gnomish scientists began their lives as castaways. One by one, they fell victim to the various hazards of Darkhollow. Those that survived were forced to augment their failing bodies with salvaged clockwork parts until the gnomes were almost completely mechanical. Through the magic of tinkering, most of them managed to retain some of their personality and memory in Fibblebrap gems, named after the gnome that invented them. These gems, placed into the heart of the clockwork, served to keep the gnomes' souls alive as they waited for word, existing as what they call gnomeworks. But as can happen when toying with tinkering, it wasn't perfec

The miners of the Expedition began to show strange behaviors after some time. These miners, called the Creep Reapers, have all but forgotten its gnomish heritage, and have instead focused on mining corathus. Perhaps it was the influence of the corathus mineral, or perhaps it was their willingness to surrender their biological parts so quickly, but the Creep Reapers have adopted a somewhat relentless and remorseless approach to mining. They attack anything that enters their mines and often work themselves to malfunction. The Creep Reapers detest the other survivors of Expedition 328 who have chosen not to help toil in the mines.

Pre- Prophecy of Ro Teasers

Mayong's Death Message
The Demi-Plane of Blood is strangely silent. Though Mayong's body is unmoving, his presence can still be felt. His booming voice suddenly fills the halls of the Keep, coming from all directions.

Mayong shouts, 'This is the sweetest victory I could have ever hoped for. The focused devotion and attention you demonstrated have lent strength and credibility to my divinity. You have unwittingly worshipped me, and you have martyred me. Let the world know that a new diety has joined the pantheon . . . and his name is Mayong Mistmoore!'

A New God
With the final devastating blow, Mayong Mistmoore's blood spread across the enchanted floor of Dreadspire Keep. In his last breath, the lord of the vampires issued a promise, "My age begins."

Finally shedding the remains of his mortal coil, centuries of research and experiments culminated into achieving his life's goal -- to ascend and walk among the gods. With the last act of unleashing Mistmoore's soul, Norrath's mortals released an evil demi-god among the unsuspecting planes of the pantheon.

And as Mistmoore's soul completed its metamorphosis, the Demi-Plane of Blood became fully realized as a crimson realm of death and darkness. Even Ro's shimmer, the great Norrath sun, was lessened as the vampire's plane bled through the pantheon, reeling and reforming in ethereal space.

Norrathians thirst for glory and power -- a reality the vampire relied on -- brought Mayong to godhood. For hundreds of years, Mayong laid the groundwork for his own ascension, carefully and purposefully. He enshrouded himself in mystery and myth, creating an insatiable curiosity in historians and fame hunters the world over. Few had ever seen the vampire, but everyone believed in him. That was crucial to Mayong's designs.

Most know that the gods of the pantheon are strengthened and empowered by those who revere and believe in them. So, as Norrathians accepted Mayong's invitation to Dreadspire Keep, they unwittingly acknowledged his power and became disciples who fueled the enchantments that surrounded him and his abode.

When the last drop of the great vampire's blood trickled to the floor, the enchantments took on life at his death. The awe of his power and pride in his defeat shown by those who revealed him provided the last ingredient to lift his dark soul into godhood.

Now, Mayong's cackles resonate through the immortal realm.

The wise and learned of Norrath share chagrin at this turn of tides in the pantheon, for they suspect what most certainly do not -- Mayong's ascension is but a stepping stone for a larger, more devious plan than any could imagine. Beyond the mortal lands, in a realm of pure magic, a goddess has foreseen a world plunged into darkness and chaos. Worse still, she feels her own kin's suffering.

And while Norrath's lauded heroes -- Firiona Vie and Lanys T'Vyl -- and their armies remain unfound, the world and its future lie in the hands of those who set the vampire free.

Return of the Gods
The gods have returned and the mortal realm shifts with their influence. But a new presence walking among the gods - a malevolent force that was released into godhood by the follies of mortals. Unbound by the laws of the pantheon, it leaves corruption in its wake and threatens to bring the entire pantheon crumbling down. The only hope for Norrath hangs on the very mortals who have unleashed this upheaval. They may be the only ones with a chance of stopping it.

In Freeport, Druzzil has opened a portal within the Academy of Arcane Science to her home plane. The city, already strained politically, falls into chaos and power struggles as fanatics cry that the end is near.

Rallos Zek, learning of Druzzil's actions, resolves to guide Norrathians to the Plane of Rage. His daughter, Sullon Zek, the demigod of Rage, has been overtaken by the very rage she grants to mortals. Confined to a tower within her realm, she unleashes her fury upon her lands. Can intreped mortals bring a balance to the chaos of her realm and restore Sullon?

The nature god Tunare, having lost her Chosen, has a growing sense of forboding. She, too, has heard of Druzzil's effforts, and now joins the fight against the threat. Her plan is bold, but, as even Tunare herself admits, problematic. She intends to revive the ancient knowledge of her now-extinct first children, the Elddar elves. To do so, she calls upon Druzzil and Karana, the god of storms, for assistance. Karana sends great winds across the deserts of Ro to uncover teh lost center of power of the Elddar elves, the palace of Takish-Hiz. Its walls and petrified gardens uncovered, Druzzil then manipulates time and space to provide Norrathians with passage into Takish-Hiz of Old, so they may learn from teh most ancient race of elves, and return that great knowledge to Norrath.

Relic (Plane of Magic)
Druzzil Ro built the artifact city of Relic to harness and channel the magical energies emanating from Arcstone, the isle beneath it. Relic serves as the home the scrykin, the race created by Druzzil Ro to protect her. In addition to Druzzil's scrykin and elemental denizens, several dragons from the Nest were invited to Relic. A few of them are permanent residents in Relic, serving as headmasters and teachers for the various scrykin schools of magic.

Relic was once ruled by Daosheen, the first born of the scrykin race, though he has not been seen in over a century. When the elder scrykin began their descent into madness many years ago, Daosheen sealed himself inside a magical tower and refuses to be disturbed by outsiders.

In Daosheen's absence, Porthio the Second Born, assumed the role as the leader of Relic. Although Porthio is affected by the same madness affecting the rest of his kindred, he has remained slightly more coherent than his brothers, allowing him to study shadow magic on Relic along with the traditional schools of fire, ice and lightning. Rumors abound that Porthio has grown interested in Shadowspine, the artifact which has recently resurfaced in Darkhollow.

Since the elder scrykin have succumbed to madness, the dragons of Relic began to assume more political control over the artifact city. Petty rivalries have broken out amongst the three dragons -- Tsicut, Ashenback and Shar`Drahn -- each of which secretly wants control of the magical channeling platforms built into Relic. All the while, Porthio remains focused on his studies, leaving the dragons to bicker amongst themselves.

Amidst Relic
Alley of a Thousand Doors -- The walls along this alleyway are covered with all manner of doors, portals, archways and passages. It is rumored that magic users can reach anywhere in existence via these portals, provided they know how to activate them.

Chamber of the Lost -- The study of the arcane takes a toll on one's mind and sanity is not always a luxury a mage can afford. Here dwell the mages that have been driven insane by their studies, either by the horrors they have seen or the sheer strain they have placed on their minds. The elder dragons know the importance of keeping these mages around both for the horrific knowledge they possess as well as the example they serve and so the insane casters have been quarantined into this narrow alley.

Arcstone (Plane of Magic)
The island itself functioned as a channel where magic accumulated and exploded outward like a geyser. For this reason, Druzzil constructed Relic, a great city that hovers above Arcstone to harness its power. Then Druzzil fashioned a new race, the first ever created from organic life and arcane magic -- the scrykin. After Druzzil fashioned the first thirteen scrykin, she tutored them in the ways of magic. The scrykin were incredibly intelligent and took to Druzzil's instruction with great zeal.

With their great knowledge, they faced a dragon named Skylance that had invaded the Plane of Magic. They engaged in such a great and terrible battle that it broke off a large piece of Arcstone that came to be known as the Bluff of Stillwillow. In the end, Skylance and six of the original thirteen scrykin lay dead.

The remaining scrykin were rewarded with the use and ownership of Relic by Druzzil Ro herself. Over many years, the goddess of Magic passed on her knowledge to them, including instructions on the rituals and procedures involved in creating more scrykin.

When Druzzil was satisfied with what her creations had learned, she disappeared into the ether of the Plane of Magic. She has not been seen since, though it is rumored that she is sometimes heard through her shrine on Arcstone.

Left to make a life for themselves, the scrykin made schools dedicated to the various elements of magic and created a tower to join Relic and Arcstone together. They named this tower Skylance out of respect for their fallen enemy, the only foe to have ever given them a challenge.

Dragons from the Broodlands offered congratulations to the scrykin for defeating the rogue dragon Skylance and were invited to Relic. Several of these dragons, including Ashenback, Tsikut and Shar`Drahn, befriended the scrykin and took on positions within the hierarchy of the city.

Sadly, it was discovered that somewhere around their hundredth year of life, the scrykin began to degenerate. Their mental and physical states deteriorated, slowly at first, but then more rapidly as the years passed. Despite these effects, the degenerating scrykin continued to grow in size and power as they aged.

To this day, no one knows why scrykin degenerate the way they do. Whatever the reason for this slow transformation, there is no mistake that the eldest of the scrykin are the most dangerous, the most powerful and the most delusional of the scrykin race.

Amidst Arcstone
Skylance's Remains -- The bones of the dragon Skylance lie scattered throughout one of Arcstone's larger valleys. Although the dragon is long gone, remnants of its body, including its scales, teeth and horns, have since been infused with the ambient magic of Arcstone that drifts about the dragon's bones like ghostly lanterns

The Sentient Forest -- Xanzerok is an elder tree spirit that commands large groves of tanglefoot vines throughout the lower ledges of Arcstone. The vines themselves protect Xanzerok's territory from would-be intruders. The scrykin believe that Xanzerok and the entire vine forest may even constitute a single living spirit that exists as a network of roots below the soil of Arcsto

The Desolation of Ravenglass -- Ravenglass, perhaps the most enigmatic of Arcstone's elder spirits, has no true physical form. From time to time, it has been known to manifest itself as a haphazard amalgamation of bones, often traveling to Norrath to visit various battlefields. From the spirit's many trips, Ravenglass brings back casualties of war, which it animates as fallen spirits to protect its territory in Arcstone. In the center of Ravenglass' domain is a large dead tree which the spirit has adorned with the shields of all the heroes it claimed over the years from various battlefields across Norrath.

The Prophecy of Peril
Atrayan stood at a shelf reorganizing his books and tomes in his room in the tower of the Academy of Arcane Science in Freeport when the entire building began to shake violently. Struggling for his own footing, he awkwardly lunged to save a carefully stacked pile of books and an ink jar from falling off his desk. He was too late. They all tumbled to the floor. The books spread across the floor, the ink jar spilled onto his favorite rug, and Atrayan landed square on his tailbone, sending a sharp pain shooting up his spine. After only a few seconds, everything was still again.

"What in Solusek's flame was that?" Atrayan grumbled to himself. He crawled across the floor to clean up the mess when he heard shouts from above him in the tower. They sounded like cheers.

He ignored the mess for the moment and groaned loudly as he got to his feet, rubbing his aching lower back. He muttered a few words that most would find unsavory and shuffled as quickly as he could up the ramp to the top of the Academy. There among a growing crowd he saw Opal Darkbriar, the academy librarian, standing smugly and curtseying for all with a great flourish.

"For all of you who doubted my theory and efforts when I first suggested we open this portal, I ask you to behold what we have created here -- a portal of all portals!" she exclaimed. Several of the academy's most notable wizards stood behind Opal. When she spoke, they all looked at each other and rolled their eyes. She didn't seem to notice and continued to congratulate herself for the portal that had formed behind her which, of course, had nothing to do with her.

Four days ago, the wizards of the Academy noticed a small magical disturbance that appeared as a faint blue glow on a platform at the height of the tower. Many years ago when the academy was built, that very platform was created as a portal site. It was made from precious stones passed down from wizard to wizard that were said to have belonged to the most adept wizards of the Combine Empire. However, at the time of the site's construction, none of the wizards could agree on where the portal might lead, so it was left untouched . . . until recently.

The morning after the magic pocket appeared in the academy, Arch Mage Galsin, a high elf master of teleportation arts, called a meeting with all of the guild masters of the academy. He spoke of a dream he had the night before in which Druzzil Ro pleaded with him to cultivate and protect the portal in the academy. While some guild masters were skeptical, they agreed to let Galsin gather his apprentices to investigate and protect the portal site.

As the hours passed, Druzzil Ro's presence became keenly felt by almost everyone in the Academy and they all spoke of it tentatively. Those who didn't have dreams of a great tower that joined two islands of flowing magic said they heard a distinct voice that spoke in riddles -- Druzzil's voice. Naturally, the academy leaders unraveled the riddles quickly. Deciphered, they revealed a dark prophecy; one that described Norrath smothered by eternal night, forever enslaved by an evil master. And today was the culmination of all the events of the past few days. As Atrayan was sorting his books, the pocket of magic at the portal site exploded into a column of light that reached into the sky above the tower.

Atrayan continued to listen to Opal Darkbriar's claims of ownership and prowess with disinterest. Opal was well known for taking credit for others' work. It was her modus operandi to garner the attention of the masters who might elevate her position within the academy. She certainly got plenty of attention over the years, the wrong kind (outside of Cain Darkmoore, the Steel Warriors guild master, who had fallen madly in love with her). Nevertheless, she remained revered by some as the best librarian ever known with an almost unnerving thirst for knowledge, particularly of the necromantic arts. That was her specialty even as a high elf enchanter.

As Opal continued to wax arrogant over her involvement in the portal's creation, Atrayan's focus shifted to the brightening light behind her. The portal was humming and started to pulse with blinding white light. The resonance of the hum deepened and rattled Atrayan's teeth so fiercely that he had to slip his tongue between them.

A strange silhouette slowly formed within the column of light, a shape that Atrayan didn't recognize. By this time, all the attending academy scientists' eyes turned to watch the portal. Many of them slowly stepped backward as the shape within the light was clearly foreign.

The portal then stopped pulsing and an incredibly malformed creature floated slowly from it. As strange and ugly as it was, it was somehow equally benevolent.

"It has no head!" Atrayan exclaimed, frozen where he stood with shock. And indeed the creature didn't. What might have been a head on most intelligent creatures was almost like a gaping mouth, rimmed by what appeared to be fangs. Atrayan thought that if it once did have a head, its mouth had long since taken over. He also noted that the creature had some of the most elegant and intricate robes he had ever seen.

And if all of it wasn't bizarre enough, the creature spoke without any discernable vocal chords or spoken words. It communicated telepathically to all of them.

"I am an emissary of the Matron of the Art, Druzzil Ro. She has sent me here to guide you as best as I am able," the creature stated with grating, almost gargled words, which seemed peculiar even as telepathic speech. "I am a child of Druzzil Ro, a scrykin. Should you make any attempt on my life, I will bring the wrath of magic fully upon you."

Opal then spoke, to everyone's disappointment and embarrassment.

"We wish you no harm, emissary. In fact, it was I that secured your passage to these lands of mortals where we worship and adore the Matron of th --," Opal stopped as the scrykin raised its arms quickly. Suddenly, everyone's mind was pierced by a shrill scream that shattered all their thoughts with unimaginable pain.

Atrayan knew covering his ears would not stop the pain from the screech, but he felt as though his brain was going to squeeze out of them. But as quickly as the scream and agony came, it stopped. Then the strange gurgling voice invaded their minds once again.

"Silence that imposter!" the emissary chortled and pointed a wizened finger at Opal. "And bring to me the one you call Galsin."

There were murmurs among the crowd followed by movement from the back as Galsin inched his way to the stand before the emissary.

"I am Arch Mage Galsin," he said. The next words delivered by the emissary were heard only by the mage.

"You are to be the first to pass into our plane of Magic through this portal. You will meet the others who were summoned to Arcstone in times past. It is your charge to learn the ways of magic and to help guide kindred mortals through many trials and tests that are unknown to me. This is a path you must choose and you must know that with it comes great responsibility. Against your nature, you must remain in Arcstone and allow all mortals with the desire and skill to aid my matron with your guidance. Do you accept this charge?" the emissary asked.

Galsin paused for a moment, unsure where to look at the emissary as it had no eyes. The magicians, wizards, and enchanters gathered by the portal looked expectantly at him. They had all watched him nod and react, knowing he was spoken to. Opal stood by quietly too, but her eyes bore into Galsin with hate.

"I will do whatever will please the matron. I accept your charge," Galsin said. The emissary raised his right arm, revealing a bland-faced mask suspended from the cuff of his robe, and swept it in the direction of the portal, bidding Galsin to enter it. The mage nodded slowly and walked into the portal, vanishing in a bright flash of light.

The emissary then turned and faced the masters of the arcane.

"Attuned to magic, you are. You have been sent visions and a prophecy of great peril to us all. It is your duty and mine to remain here and document all that is learned to guide those that pass into the planes to heed the matron's call," the emissary said.

"Planes? More than one?" Atrayan inquired from amidst the crowd. The reply surprised them all and caused a momentary wave of embarrassment to pass over Opal's features.

"The matron has brought you gifts unlike any you've known. Her great power has provided all she believes you need to save this world, including passage into lands and realms not attainable by mortals in the past. In moments you will have visitors that claim a passage into Sullon Zek's plane of Rage and even more magnificent still is a portal in your desert through space and time to the Elddar Forest of old. Use these gifts wisely for they are our only hope to alter the matron's prophecy. Now, you must go and prepare. The future -- of mortal and god alike -- rests in your hands," the scrykin said with finality.

The crowd dispersed quickly. Atrayan lifted the front of his robes so he didn't trip as he trotted down the ramp with the crowd. In his room, he started to clean up the mess of books and ink on his rug. Then, just as the emissary foretold, he heard a Steel Warrior apprentice shout about the discovery of a portal to the Plane of Rage.

As significant as that was, Atrayan was more preoccupied by the emissary's last words. He reflected on all he'd accomplished in his life and believed it was all meant for this moment. Now, it was up to him and those like him to change the path of a prophecy that would surely see the end of the world.

Prophecy of Ro

Plane of Magic
Druzzil Ro, the goddess of magic, created Arcstone, a craggy island floating amidst the turbulent void known as the Plane of Magic. Arcstone was not the only island within the Plane of Magic, but it was the most populated, serving as a kind of nexus for magical energies. Arcstone attracted all manner of magical creatures including elementals and dervishes.

The island itself functioned as a channel where wild magic accumulated and exploded outward like a geyser. For this reason, Druzzil constructed Relic, a great city that hovers above Arcstone to harness its power.

The Scrykin
While Druzzil was occupied with Relic's construction, legends tell of a rogue dragon of Veeshan's first brood known as Skylance that found its way to the Plane of Magic and Arcstone. As soon as Skylance's claws touched Arcstone, he claimed it as his territory and insisted that Druzzil Ro swear fealty to him as the new lord of the Plane of Magic. Druzzil Ro did not respond to his claims.

Skylance was prideful enough to believe the goddess was gone for good and so the dragon began converting Arcstone into his lair. Little did the dragon know that Druzzil Ro, on another isle in the Plane of Magic, was already preparing to create a new race of golems. Druzzil Ro's creations would not only protect her but would also rival the dragon in raw magical ability. She became so absorbed in the creation of her golems that she eventually created a unique breed of sentient creature. It was the first time organic life had ever been created from arcane magic. Thus, the scrykin race was born.

After Druzzil Ro fashioned the first thirteen scrykin, supple golems made of living tar, she tutored her creations in the ways of magic. The scrykin were incredibly intelligent and took to the goddess' instruction with great zeal. When the thirteen scrykin were ready to fully serve their creator, they gathered on Arcstone to confront Skylance. A terrible battle ensued that shook the isle and broke off a large piece of Arcstone -- a separate rock now known as the Bluff of Stillwillow. In the end, Skylance and six of the original thirteen scrykin lay dead. Druzzil Ro took her remaining scrykin to Relic and taught them the rituals and procedures involved in creating more of their own kind which she wrote in a tome known as the Codex Artifice. Soon after penning the Codex Artifice, Druzzil Ro disappeared back into the ether of the Plane of Magic. It is rumored that she is sometimes heard through her shrine on Arcstone. The scrykin lived and prospered on Relic for many years. They made schools dedicated to the various elements of magic and even erected a tower to join Relic and Arcstone together. They named this tower Skylance out of respect for their fallen enemy.

Other dragons from the Broodlands congratulated the scrykin for defeating the rogue dragon and were invited to Relic. Several of these dragons, including Ashenback, Tsikut and Shar`Drahn, befriended the scrykin and took on positions within the hierarchy of the city. For many years, the scrykin lived peacefully and contentedly . . . until they began to change.

A Mysterious Madness
Somewhere around their hundredth year of life, the scrykin began to degenerate. Their mental and physical states deteriorated slowly at first. Their features, originally placid and calm, began to droop and melt and their temperaments, formerly calm and analytical, took a turn for the sinister. Despite these effects, the degenerating scrykin continued to grow in size and power as they aged. It wasn't long before the firstborn scrykin began succumbing to bouts of madness, and soon afterward the second generation of scrykin began to show the first signs of instability. Paranoid delusions and dark temperaments overtook the scrykin elders. The younger scrykin attempted to study and cure the madness that was overtaking their older brethren, but all their research was in vain. All they could deduce was that the scrykin race somehow grew more and more unstable as it aged. Even with all the uncertainty and concern over the phenomena, the scrykin tried to maintain some normalcy and they continued to learn and teach in Relic.

While Relic is ruled by Daosheen, the first born of the scrykin race, he has not been seen in over a century. When the elder scrykin began their descent into madness many years ago, Daosheen sealed himself inside a magical tower and refused to be disturbed by outsiders. In Daosheen's absence, Porthio the Second Born, assumed the role as the governor of Relic. Rumors abound that Porthio has grown interested in Shadowspine, the artifact which recently surfaced in Darkhollow.

Because the elder scrykin have succumbed to madness, the dragons of Relic assumed more political control over the artifact city. Petty rivalries have broken out amongst the three dragons -- Tsicut, Ashenback and Shar`Drahn -- each of which secretly wants control of the magical channeling platforms built into Relic. All the while, Porthio remains focused on his studies, leaving the dragons to bicker amongst themselves.

The melancholy fates of the remaining firstborn scrykin of Druzzil Ro are as follows:

Daosheen the First has not been seen in over a century. The eldest scrykin was the first to succumb to madness and shortly thereafter became obsessed with studying power crystals mined from Arcstone. It is rumored that he has locked himself inside of Skylance tower where he studies his precious crystals to this day.

Porthio the Second, insane though he may be, believes that the secret to avoiding the curse of the scrykin is to become an undead lich. He has launched a fervent study of necromancy and shadow magic and has recently grown excited about the dark magic of Shadowspine, a lost artifact of necromancy rumored to have been penned by Mayong Mistmoore. In Daosheen's absence, Porthio rules over Relic with a capricious and iron-fisted sense of justice. Porthio is never far from his loyal pet and bodyguard, a spirit cat of pure shadow named Nightshade.

Ao the Fourth is the only scrykin to have arrested the degenerative curse affecting the scrykin race. He was able to do this by abandoning his physical body and becoming a spirit of Arcstone. Although Ao no longer grows in power as he ages as the rest of the scrykin do, he is at least free from the degenerative madness afflicting his brothers.

Zomm the Seventh, once a great diviner of Relic, has become completely feral. He has abandoned his home and now wanders the isle of Arcstone where he conducts strange meditative experiments tailored to push his awareness beyond the known realms. No one knows what horrors Zomm has glimpsed during his year-long trances for he has not spoken in centuries.

Sharlash the Ninth dwells on Relic where he builds golems and other creatures of artifice.

Thanus the Eleventh has dedicated himself to the study of ice magic. He works closely with the dragon Tsikut on Relic and they both conspire to overthrow the leadership so they may turn the artifact city into an elemental nexus of ice.

Maru the Twelfth, perhaps the most schizophrenic of the original thirteen, spends most of his time learning to infiltrate the minds of others. Who knows what he is plotting within Relic's glowing walls?

The others -- Ganeer the Third, Kallendo the Fifth, Kazzanthar the Sixth, Taroknock the Eighth, Karkahn the Tenth, Morogo the Thirteenth -- were slain during the fight with the dragon Skylance.

On Takish'Hiz and the Elddar Forest
The Elddar Forest and Takish-Hiz Thousands of years past, after the great dragon Veeshan claimed Norrath and settled her brood upon it, a god named Brell Serilis, the Duke of Below, surveyed the lands of Norrath. He invited a small group of other gods to enter a pact to create their own influence on the world and to keep the dragon kind that ruled it in balance. Those gods were Tunare, Prexus, and Rallos Zek. All but Rallos Zek agreed to be allies in this new world, but regardless, they all set to work populating the lands with their own creations.

Tunare, the goddess of Nature, saw a lush forest and fertile land on a great continent in Norrath. She eagerly and lovingly created a race of elves and settled them into the dense forest. Those elves, which came to call themselves the Elddar, prospered quickly and greatly. And while Tunare watched her children with pleasure and pride, other gods came to notice the new world. These gods soon realized they received no invitation to be part of Norrath’s development and were not so enamored of those who had. One god who took particular offense was Innoruuk, the Prince of Hate. Innoruuk seethed with anger over his exclusion from the new world and was most disgusted with Tunare's loyal and kind elves. He felt them a weak abomination a chose to use them as an example of his power in the creation of his own race. He stole the first elven king and queen of the great house of Thex right from their thrones in the great elven city of Takish-Hiz. He would torture them both for three hundred years in his Plane of Hate until they were twisted and torn by his power to become the first Teir'Dal -- the dark elf race.

Many years later, Solusek Ro, the Lord of Flame, saw the new world of Norrath and wanted to claim the same great lands Tunare had taken for her elves. His jealousy and determination overcame him and he would soon intervene.

But unexpectedly, on a dais in Takish-Hiz in the Elddar Forest, while the elves faced the most threatening era of their lives, a strange portal appeared. Intelligent creatures of all manner and size never seen before began to march through it. They claimed to be from the future and that they had come to learn from the Elddar in order to save the world.

Passage to the Past
This portal was the work of Druzzil Ro, the goddess of Magic. As Mayong Mistmoore, the terrible vampire, broke his mortal bonds and ascended into the realm of the gods, Druzzil Ro appealed to Tunare and asked for her permission and aid to bring the knowledge of the Elddar elves to the races of Norrath. She hoped the Elddar elves' wisdom would provide some answers that would help Norrathians prevent Mistmoore's evil from spreading across the realm of the gods and the mortal realm. Tunare agreed and was quietly excited to once again see and hear her lovely elves. When the plans and enchantments were prepared, Druzzil Ro implored Karana, the god of Storms, to aid in her task. And so, Karana spun the sands of the Desert of Ro with such force that the ruined palace of Takish-Hiz was revealed. While this powerful storm lifted the sands, Druzzil Ro crafted a whirling magical eddy that stabilized to become a passage through time to the great Elddar Forest that existed in the Age of Monuments.

The Elddar Forest during this time was lush and primeval and testament to the beauty of Tunare. It was teeming with life and magic and was home to every manner of enchanted creature, as well as housing the city of Takish-Hiz in all its glory. The ancient race of Elddar elves tended to the city and forest in harmony with nature

Plane of Rage
It is said that when one mortal kills another during a fit of rage that the killer is sent to the Plane of Rage when they die. There, in this war-torn plane of Sullon Zek, maiden of Rage, her minions and subjects wage an eternal battle.

All newcomers to the Plane of Rage must endure the Seething Wall. At first, the subjects see an all-consuming darkness. Then they feel cold, leathery flesh and the pinch and scrape of armor against their bodies, crushing them from every direction. They also smell the stench of death on the cold air. More strangely, they begin to feel the urgent need to destroy and vent their unrelenting rage. They feel the power of Sullon Zek's rage calling to them.

All creatures that find themselves in the Plane of Rage want nothing more than to fight for Sullon Zek and earn her respect. It doesn't matter how many they have to kill to gain her approval. With this eternal desire, every creature in the Seething Wall moves forward, shoving its way out to the edge. Ultimately, they come to stare out over The Devastation battlegrounds, anger growing in their hearts, waiting for Sullon Zek to call them to battle one by one.

The Devastation
Few of the souls warring on the fields of the plane give it a name. To most it is simply the place where they must fight or die and return to the rot and stench of the Seething Wall. If they refer to the battlegrounds at all, they call it The Devastation. The Seething Wall, the place of the armies' continual rebirth, surrounds The Devastation, looming over it as a reminder of the price of death. This wall is infinite, squirming with struggling bodies all aiming to please the Maiden of Rage. And from the torn ground of The Devastation, the armies can see their destination -- Sverag, the Stronghold of Rage.

As soon as the bodies fall from the Seething Wall into The Devastation, they immediately find an alliance to strengthen their numbers to fight to the Mistress of Rage and earn her respect. The lands around them at the outer rim are dried and cracked and thoroughly trodden. They are littered with shattered stone from broken walls, fortresses and towers.

The look of the land changes daily as battles rage across it. Structures are built and destroyed as armies vie for positions of power and fight the constant influx of enemies from the wall. And during this eternal war, the balance of power is always shifting.

The armies of the lands set up camps as quickly and frequently as they can by building low walls and tents at any point they feel is strategically sound. They usually do not last long. If opposing armies don't destroy them, the quaking earth will. Many creatures of Rage believe the ground trembles with Sullon Zek's rage. And as the swords continually clash and blood soaks the dry ground, every creature's prize looms at the center of The Devastation -- Sullon Zek's tower. Only by gaining control of Sverag, the stronghold, will the right to serve Sullon Zek be earned.

Sullon Zek
In a long forgotten age, Sullon McKlarren was a simple barbarian whose only desire was to defend her northern homeland on Antonica from its enemies. Battle after battle, she excelled as her prowess with axes and swords was unmatched. She was always victorious, slaying ice giants, fierce wild beasts, and many others. Halas, the barbarian city, came to rely on Sullon and her small band of friends as defenders of their home.

As she battled she learned to focus her anger and hate for her enemies. Her focused ire became so great that she seemed to shift into an alternate consciousness. During those moments, even her friends could not reach her, and it worried them. In those fierce states of pure rage, Sullon was unstoppable. Even her faithful wolves, Ghost and Snowtail, began to spend more time away from her than at her side. They feared for her, but more than that they grew afraid of her. And each time Sullon used her talent for focusing her rage, she seemed to get stronger, so strong in fact, that Rallos Zek, the god of war, noticed her. Her unique talents were of great interest to him and so he summoned her to Drundar, the Fortress of Zek.

In the great pit of Drundar, Rallos Zek pitted Sullon against many of his champions and favored warriors. They all failed. Sullon's ferocity and talent almost made her challenges boring. With few champions left to fight Sullon, Rallos Zek stepped into the pit himself and faced her. With humility, Sullon lowered her axes to the ground and began to kneel when Rallos issued a terrifying yell and forbade her from ever dropping her axes again. He commander her to fight him. And she did. For what seemed like hours they fought in the pit. Sullon, consumed by her rage, sent her blades whirling, her body lithe and limber evaded and seemed to curl around Rallos' strikes. The ring of parries chimed throughout Drundar as Rallos' minions began to gather around the pit. Never before had such a fight been witnessed. Sullon never seemed to tire. Her first strikes still as strong as her last -- the one that found Rallos' axe and both of hers locked together. Sullon shook with anger and ferocity trying to break her weapons free, perfectly willing to drop them and take on the great god of war with her bare fists. That's when Rallos laughed so loudly it shook the great stone fortress. His laugh surprised Sullon so much that her focused rage was interrupted and she kneeled before him, prepared to die for having the audacity to take up arms against a god. As she waited for the sting of an axe on her neck, she felt only the cold touch of steel on each shoulder as Rallos anointed her as the Maiden of Rage. He gave her dominion over the aspects of war that manifest in pure rage. None save Rallos himself could withstand her in battle, though her brothers thought that they could defeat her, for they were wiser than she. They, of course, never attempted to prove their claims.

Legends say that she remains inside Razorthorn, her tower within the stronghold, urging those dedicated to her to increase their rage and learn to focus it. It is said that she will honor those that do so by allowing them to serve her in the tower. There are other legends that say that she was betrayed by her father, Rallos Zek, and imprisoned in that tower because he feared her strength. The legends are merely rumor, however. Only Sullon Zek and perhaps those that serve her in her tower know the truth.

The Bolvirk
From the broken earth and bones left behind in the Devastation, Sullon Zek molded a race of her own, called the Bolvirk. She named this race after her much-adored berserker mentor -- Bolvirk McDurnnan -- who was lost to her when she was a mortal child.

The Bolvirk are Sullon Zek's own giants and form the greatest army in the Plane of Rage. Sullon created the Bolvirk to be examples of the power of rage. They are sturdy and their rage is tremendous. They can focus their anger and use it to become fearsome foes on any battlefield, much like Sullon, their maker. They were driven by the force of Sullon Zek's own fury, like all the others in the Plane of Rage. The flesh of the Bolvirk appears slightly melted or twisted and their bones protrude from their bodies in places, especially at the elbows, knees and knuckles, forming a grim exoskeleton. Scarification rituals are used by the Bolvirk to denote rank, and thus the most powerful Bolvirk look like an illuminated scroll. The runes of power that adorn them are made by pouring molten metal into open scars in the skin, where it hardens and stays. Soon after they were created, the Bolvirk built a fortress around the tower that was the home of their goddess. True to their nature, they built a functional, durable fortress meant to withstand the rage of those that the goddess knew would be drawn to her. The stone walls were not built artfully, but securely. The bricks of the walls and buildings were also created to give the Bolvirk some relief from the dangers of constant battle -- but there has been no rest for many long years. The roof materials, once adorning stately vaulted ceilings, have been used up in the creation of catapults, spears and axe hafts.

The blankets have been burned or used as bandages. There is little left but the stone, which itself is often used as catapult shot (or simply thrown at opponents by the Bolvirk). The Bolvirk controlled the stronghold for many years until one of their own faltered. The Bolvirk believe that Sendaro was the greatest fighter to ever live. He fought any that would face him and triumph. It wasn't long before only the most insane in The Devastation would dare face him. He grew bored with no challenging opponents to vent his rage upon and began to force his own kind to fight him. But the fights did more to frustrate Sendaro than quench his rage as he required more formidable opponents. Within a few years, his pent up rage began to consume him and he became uncontrollable.

Sendaro began attacking and killing the strongest of the Bolvirk to sate his need to unleash his rage. His actions ultimately weakened the force of the Bolvirk so much that enemies took notice and began to attack the stronghold in greater numbers and frequency.It was during this time that an ancient Bolvirk leader named Verdarg arrived in The Devastation from the Seething Wall. He was brought forward by Sullon Zek in order to challenge Sendaro. Verdarg was one of the first Bolvirk Sullon created. He was wise and willful enough to never lose control of his anger. Verdarg incited the armies battling in The Devastation to believe they had the strength and power to take control of the stronghold away from the Bolvirk. Under Verdarg's taunting battle cries, waves of enraged warriors swarmed the stronghold's gate attempting to crush the Bolvirk. Once the battle was engaged, Sendaro himself came forth, thrilled to appease his bloodlust. He threw open the gates of the stronghold himself and stood before the mass of enraged armies, ready to fight. Sendaro slew the invaders by the hundreds. His eyes burned as pure rage flowed through him with every strike. None could pass him.

As Sendaro was engaged, Verdarg and a few worthy warriors readied a makeshift ram made from the pieces of broken siege weapons. They rammed the walls of the fortress so forcefully that part of the great wall crumbled just enough for them to scale it. From within the walls of the fortress, Verdarg and his warriors unleashed awave of destructive rage upon the Bolvirk until all but one was dead. With his eye on Sendaro, Verdarg charged. The battle was long and arduous and in the end, Sendaro made a fatal error.

With his rage fully unleashed and out of control, Sendara was reckless in his attacks, something Verdarg had anticipated. With both great arms swinging mighty axes in the air, Verdarg undercut and sliced Sendaro clean across his leathery belly. Sendaro knew immediately he'd suffered a fatal wound and staggered for a moment. His eyes never left Verdarg's as he began to drop to his knees and succumb to death -- to be sent into the Seething Wall to begin his journey back to Sullon Zek. He then smiled at Verdarg, almost as though he was grateful to have had the chance to stand toe-to-toe with one of Sullon's very first children; a true challenge.

Since that day no one has been able to hold the stronghold for long and every being in The Devastation fights to occupy it. The Bolvirk now feel the same urges as all creatures of Rage. Most have forgotten that their scarred hands built the formidable stone walls of the stronghold. All they know now is that they must destroy their foes and gain control so that they might earn the right to serve Sullon Zek inside her tower.

Sendaro, the greatest leader of the Bolvirk, is found in the Plane of Rage often, for he is summoned from the Seething Wall by Sullon Zek quite frequently. And as Sullon Zek's rage grows more powerful, the battles have come faster and bloodier. It seems more and more souls are finding themselves awakening within the Seething Wall.

Pre- Serpent's Spine Teasers

Mayong's Death Message
The Demi-Plane of Blood is strangely silent. Though Mayong's body is unmoving, his presence can still be felt. His booming voiceAfter Venril Sathir's curse was released into the Nest and destroyed the dragon eggs, it was clear that the future of dragonkind was in danger. With the next generation of dragons lost forever, Veeshan's bloodline was in jeopardy. Six dragons who were children of the Nest proposed a plan to their elders -- the creation of a race to protect dragons and the Wyrmqueen's bloodline, something they had seen done once before.

The six dragons were scoffed at by the elders of the Nest, but they were so adamant with the idea that the elder dragons ordered their exile so their ideas would not gain a foothold. To the elders, it was unthinkable. The six left the Nest and ignored the decree of the elders. They settled in the nearby Serpent Spine Mountains to carry out their plan to create a new race to protect the existence of Veeshan's bloodline on Norrath. They would create a race of dragon-touched humans and call them Drakkin which means “Dragon Child” in the language of the elders.

They called themselves the Circle of the Crystalwing, defining themselves as the future of dragonkind. The six dragons in the Circle: Venesh the Greenblood; Draton`ra, Master of the Void; Keikolin, Bringer of Enlightenment; Mysaphar, Seeker of All; Atathus the Red Lord; and Osh`vir the Windspirit.

In human form, the dragons traveled to Freeport and combed through the taverns and inns, looking for the right humans to suit this new race. The honorable dragons found many who sympathized with their plight and plans and agreed to help right the wrongs that mortals inflicted on dragons of the Nest by unleashing Venril's curse. Many humans considered it a great honor. The darker dragons were not so willing to negotiate and simply took the human subjects they desired. Each human taken was touched by the magic of a single drop of dragon’s blood across their cheek.

In only a matter of months, the dragon-touched humans began to experience changes, a coming-of-age that became known as the Awakening. It is then that the latent strengths they inherit from their dragon bloodline surface and they have a burning desire to better understand them. Their hair takes on new texture and color – the same color as the dragon who touched them. Parts of their skin show small, toughened scales, and runic patterns representing their new race began to show on their face, torsos and legs – all in the color of their dragon progenitor. Delicate horns appear in patterns on their foreheads. They are the essence of beauty to most who see them.

As their new traits develop, the drakkins yearn to meet their parents. They find themselves on a pilgrimage into the Serpent Spine Mountains. Their final destination is the ancient abandoned ogre city of Nokk, now alive with drakkin who call it Crescent Reach.

As they enter the Dragon’s Grove of the great stone city where their parents await them, their human past is lost forever. It is from their parents that the drakkin learn their purpose – to live and grow stronger to protect the future of Veeshan's bloodline on Norrath. With their new identity affirmed, their drakkin life truly begins.

The Serpent's Spine

When the great dragon Veeshan laid claim to Norrath and set her brood of dragonkind upon it, she entrusted a very powerful gift to them -- one of her scales. This single scale was imbued with a powerful magic that ties all dragonkind on Norrath to Veeshan and her bloodline. This artifact of Veeshan was treated with great respect and reverence and was placed in a great shrine called the Reliquary of the Scale in the dragon's Nest where it stayed protected and guarded by five Scale Guardians. Many dragons visited the shrine knowing that the magic of the scale could grant them greater wellbeing and longer life. Many even laid their eggs there for a time.

For many years, the dragons kept a protective shroud over the Nest while the lands around them became filled by races fashioned by the first gods to arrive in Norrath. The Elddar elves created by Tunare, the goddess of Nature, settled near the Nest and built a city named Takish-Hiz. The Elddar elves prospered in their lush forest city and soon drew the jealous eye of Solusek Ro, the Prince of Flame. He greatly resented Tunare's elves and chose to ruin them. He raised the spine of the world along the Serpent River that ran through the elf city, creating the Serpent Spine Mountains in that single act. Over a short time, the Elddar forest withered and burned, becoming a vast sea of sand.

Solusek Ro's act affected more than just the elves. The great shrine where Veeshan's scale was held was near the banks of the Serpent River and was violently hoisted into the sky beyond the protective veil the dragons used to hide their precious Nest. Lethar, a black dragon and the strongest of the five Scale Guardians, always had great selfish ambitions, as dragons often do, but was held in check by the elder dragons. As soon as Lethar and the scale were beyond the Nest, Lethar claimed Veeshan's scale for himself.

There was little resistance to his claim as two Scale Guardians, Sothgar and Glenicae, were crushed to death as the shrine was twisted and rent by the vicious upheaval of the land beneath them. The other two guardians were dealt with cruelly and were both banished from the shrine. They did not defy him as he threatened to destroy the scale.

Over time, the scale and Lethar became bound to one another and, now outside of the veil, Lethar learned to use the scale to draw power from any dragon that came near it. No dragons sent to retrieve the scale could defeat Lethar or break his bond with it. Even so, the dragons continued over centuries to attempt to return the scale home.

After a decade of being the sole guardian of the scale and fending off hundreds of attacks from the Nest, Lethar realized he required an agent to do his bidding while he remained on guard. He traveled the lands and found a young, wandering female Elddar elf named Veldyn who mourned the loss of many of her kin as the forest died. She was seduced by Lethar who greeted her with an illusion -- appearing as an Elddar elf himself. It was not long before Lethar's son was born and named in part after his father and his mother -- Dyn`leth, the first elf-dragon child.

Dyn`leth grew and his character became darker than his father's, no matter how hard his mother tried to guide him. He, much like Lethar, became obsessed with Veeshan's scale and the mystery of the power it possessed. After watching his father for many years, Dyn`leth made a discovery about the scale -- that he had been created from it in some way. He realized he was forever bound to it and able to control its power to some degree. He also recognized that anyone who controlled the scale controlled the dragons -- creatures Dyn`leth had no great love for.

Since the Rallosian giants and ogres were driven out of the eastern lands by a curse of the gods, Dyn`leth held sway over most of the inhabitants of the regions surrounding Spine Peak. His charm and threats forced almost all creatures to obey him. And so it has remained for centuries.

One year ago, six dragons born in the Nest but living beyond it, returned home to see the devastation the curse brought to their birthplace. While surveying the damage, they were told the tale of the elf-dragon in the nearby mountains who controlled the scale and could bend dragons to his will. It was clear to them that the future of Veeshan's bloodline on Norrath was threatened and they sought a solution that would protect dragonkind.

In a matter of days, the six dragons proposed a solution to the elders of the Nest which caused a great conflict. While the elders watched them in disgust, they explained their plan to create a new race of humans touched with dragon's blood.

The six dragons believed that if Lethar created a being of his own blood -- an elf-dragon -- they could also. The dragons promised the elders that this new race of mortals could strengthen Veeshan's bloodline on Norrath, represent them to all races, and grow powerful enough to restore Veeshan's scale with the help of other mortals. This race would be self-sustaining and each would be born much more quickly than the 100 years it takes to hatch a dragon egg.

The greater dragons of the Nest, Rikkukin, Yar`Lir, and Tirranun especially, vehemently opposed the proposal and called the six dragons extremists who defied their laws and cast them out of the Nest.

The six dragons left, undeterred, and settled in the lowlands of the Serpent Spine Mountains in a grove within an old abandoned ogre city called Nokk. They decided to carry out their plan to create a race they would call 'drakkin' -- a human-dragon race. The six called themselves the Circle of the Crystalwing and felt they were the only hope of a future for dragonkind.

The six dragons of the Circle are Venesh the Greenblood; Draton`ra, Master of the Void; Keikolin, Bringer of Enlightenment; Mysaphar, Seeker of All; Atathus the Red Lord; and Osh`vir the Windspirit. Venesh, Draton`ra, and Atathus share similar philosophy and differed from the other dragons. Their plans for acquiring humans for the new race did not involve cooperation. They would selectively steal away the humans they felt had what they desired in their new offspring. Keikolin, Mysaphar, and Osh`vir chose to cooperate with humans and have their blessing when it came to selecting humans to be touched by dragon blood. It was only days before each dragon began the rituals to infuse the humans with their blood. They delivered the humans home after the ritual and waited for the day when the dragon blood in them awakened. On that day, they would make their pilgrimage to the mountains. It took only two months for the drakkins to slowly fill the old ogre city. The firstborn of each of the dragons formed the Scions of the Six and acted as the council for the city, which they renamed Crescent Reach.

Dyn`leth's scouts reported the appearance of the first drakkins back to Dyn`leth and for the first time he felt a threat in the mountains he believed he controlled. But, as he often did, he looked for opportunity in every danger. The drakkins quickly became prey. Using the controlling power of Veeshan's scale, the knowledge he'd gained from his father, and the understanding gained from being born of the scale, Dyn'leth found a way to tap into the dragon blood coursing through the drakkin. It wasn't as strong a connection as with a dragon, but he found he could influence them in subtle ways -- enough to use them in an army.

But Dyn`leth's tyranny was about to be challenged.

The sheltered mountain path the drakkins used from Highpass Hold to the Serpent Spine Mountains on their pilgrimage became well-worn and visible to all. Norrathians would soon pour into the mountains.

Together, drakkins and other mortal races would band together to bring balance back to the mountains.

Crescent Reach and the Drakkin
Crescent Reach is a fully functioning city with merchants, tradeskill venues, and guildmasters. It is a city of stone built within a cliff face with a large crescent-shaped crevasse in its front, called The Hollow.
Drakkin, a new race of half-dragon, half-humans, make a pilgrimage to Crescent Reach where they experience their awakening and evolve, ultimately forgetting their human history. The drakkin’s priorities are self-preservation and to protect the future of dragonkind. There are six dragon progenitors who create drakkin by touching humans with their blood in a ritual. These dragons live in a magical grove within the city’s limits on great pillars open to the air so they may leave and return at will. The dragons are six colors -- blue, red, green, white, black, gold. Crescent Reach is also an outpost for exploration and an opportunity to drakkin to define who they are to the rest of the world.

Crescent Reach was once an ancient ogre city called Nokk. When the Circle of the Crystalwing -- the six dragons who defied the elders of the dragon’s Nest to create a new race -- sought a place to start a new race, they found the old city. It has now been adopted by the drakkin who have quickly made it their own. The drakkin culture shows in their organic items made with cloth, leather, plants, and colorful natural dyes that reflect their own vibrant colorings.

Hive of Trouble
The great mystery of the location of the home of the Bixies has been revealed in the Serpentspine Mountains -- Stone Hive has been found. These are not the Bixies remembered in Misty Thicket and Kithicor Forest, though. It seems the great magic that consumed the forest when the god of Hate intervened in a war called Bloody Kithicor tainted many of the plants in the forest. As most know, Bixies are one of the few creatures that take their food from underground -- Jumjum specifically -- and they became infected with the magic of Hate.

The change was gradual as they consumed more of the tainted flora, but eventually they found they had changed completely -- physically and in almost every other way. They had improved.

Giants’ Quandary
Within the highest icy peaks of the Serpent Spine Mountains dwell the Krithgor giants, or what remains of them. Unlike other giants in Norrath, they are intelligent, some masters of magic. But their chances of surviving for much longer are slim.

Many years ago when the Curse of the Gods sentenced Norrath’s giants, ogres, goblins, and orcs to stupidity and slovenliness for daring to invade the Plane of Earth, Rallos Zek -- the God of War and father to those races -- reserved his own curse for the Krithgor giants who did not fight in the war. Rallos Zek would exact his own vengeance upon his children who did not serve him in the Plane of War. That curse still haunts the Krithgor to this day.

The Scale of Veeshan
When Veeshan, wyrmqueen, laid her brood of dragons upon the surface of Norrath, she also left them a great magical artifact -- one of her crystalline scales. This scale was held in a reliquary in the Nest, where dragons congregated, found mates, and kept their eggs. The Nest was hidden away by a magic veil beyond the Serpent River. The scale was always guarded by some of the Nest’s most powerful and wise dragons. Then, the sanctity of the reliquary and the protection of the scale fell apart.

Many ages ago, a god named Solusek Ro raised the lands along the Serpent River in a jealous rage, creating the Serpentspine Mountains. That god’s act wrenched the reliquary and the scale up into the highest peaks of the new mountains. One Guardian of the Scale, named Lethar, survived the violent shift of the land and was determined to hoard the scale for himself. By treachery and deceit, he did. Lethar then had a son named Dyn`leth, a strange creation of elf-dragon blood, who was created to do Lethar’s bidding. And for many years Dyn`leth did as his father wished, but it wasn’t long before a lust for power gleamed in his eyes.

The Buried Sea

The burning light of Norrath's sun waned, leaving the lands bathed in twilight. The undead that once returned to darkness as the sun rose were free to wander during daylight hours. There was no rhyme or reason for what was called "The Fading," but nonetheless, it was upon the world.

Theories and fears of The Fading were shouted across the towns and villages. Doomsayers blamed a curse on the world brought by angry gods. Scholars blamed magic practiced by the unwise and unlearned and have since had their noses in books looking for a cause and solution. The rest just watched the sky . . . waiting. The world knew something was coming on the ever-darkening horizon.

And something did come. Sailors the world over began to tell tall tales of a great whirlpool that appeared off the east coast of Odus. It was so large and powerful when it appeared, they said, that it chewed up the place they once knew as Granite Island. They all call the great destructive whirlpool the Mouth of Prexus. They said it drew the sea and everything in it into its great maw.

When the whirlpool first appeared, Norrathians rushed to investigate. Some went out of simple curiosity and some to profit. Docks were built and ships from all corners of the globe anchored in the Buried Sea.

The Blacksail pirates who had the run of the islands in the Buried Sea were none too happy about these events. While their monopoly of trade was threatened, they had little doubt they would find the means to retain control.

Ignoring the pirates' threats, scholars studied the whirlpool and the islands in the Buried Sea. The standing ruins of the region were quickly identified as Combine in origin. This new information brought excitement to the many guilds of wizards across the lands and it raised many questions. Was the legend true? Did the Combine Loyalists truly build a city to sustain Tsaph Katta and protect him from General Seru and his army? It was discarded as myth many years ago!

Above the sea, there was anticipation. Beneath it, terror. A Combine city was indeed built and still exists leagues beneath the sea. It is called Katta Castrum, built by the Loyalists of the Combine Empire hundreds of years ago to protect and hold Tsaph Katta who was poisoned by his traitorous friend, General Seru.
High above the center of the city is a great artifact known as the Pellarus Satum. It bears a mysterious magic that sustains the people and shields them from the sea above. Recently for some unknown reason, it began to fail. A small funnel formed at the apex of the magical dome that protected the city. In only three days it grew and stretched so high into the sea that no one could see its end. Fortunately, the city remained safe with very little water filling the city's floor, but something would have to be done quickly.

The Collegium of the Combine gathered to discuss the dangers. They all agreed to reveal themselves and appeal to the benevolent races of the world for help. They would only send one wizard as the rest were needed to defend the city against the onslaught of Shissar attacks. However, when it came time to send the first wizard, Vesturus, to the surface, they found their portals were malfunctioning. Tragically, they lost Vesturus to the void.

The Collegium reconvened to find another solution. As one wizard, Callrium, searched his mind for answers he turned his eyes to the funnel overhead. In that moment he had a rather preposterous idea that he felt he must propose.

"I believe we have enough summoning magic among us to secure teleportation through that funnel to the surface. If we can sustain it, it will provide safe passage through this physical space," he told the Collegium. At first there were snickers among the elder Combine, but then came frowns of thoughtful consideration. Soon murmurs of agreement were heard. It was not long before the details of the alteration of space and the summoning of protection were in order.

Callrium volunteered to be the one sent to the surface. He would carry a sealed message with him and a small satchel of portal dust that he would lay down as a teleportation beacon at the spire on Jardel's Hook . . . if he survived. To his good fortune and the rest of the Combine's, the teleportation spell worked on the first attempt and he was sent through the funnel.

Callrium rose high above the whirlpool and with an adept incantation of a levitation spell, slowly floated toward a nearby rock. He was surprised to see all sorts of onlookers surrounding the Mouth of Prexus staring at him with incredulity.

Next to him stood a blue-robed gnome with his mouth agape.

"You are of the Combine, aren't you?" the gnome asked.

"Indeed. I have a message for you and your good people. The Combine rest at the bottom of the sea in a great city and we are in danger. Our city threatens to collapse around us. We must save it and our beloved Tsaph Katta. Take this sealed message as proof and send your best to us," Callrium said.

"Tsaph Katta?! He's alive? By Brell! But how do we get to the city? I see no way to it and the spire does not function. We've tried . . ." the gnome pestered.

"Our portals are not functioning as they should. My people only have enough strength to secure passage to the city through that whirlpool. You will find it a safe journey. Hurry, friend. There is little time!" Callrium said. He turned and floated across the water toward Jardel's Hook and the inactive Combine teleportation spire.

Secrets of Faydwer

The clockwork armies of the evil gnomish necromancer Meldrath the Malignant gather in the Steamfont Mountains, awaiting his order to invade the kingdom of Ak'Anon. The launch of his great air fortress Mechanotus has torn open the earth, exposing new paths into unexplored regions of the ancient continent of Faydwer.

Rediscover Faydwer as you adventure in the nearby Loping Plains, home to the soul eating wereorcs of Bloodmoon Keep. Strive to end the torment of humans and elves cursed for centuries in the Hills of Shade. All the while, an ancient menace stirs east of the Dragonscale Hills, where the prismatic dragon Kerafyrm the Awakened plans his revenge.

Meldrath the Mad
It is said that Meldrath had a conjoined twin with whom he was connected at the chest. One boy's heart was as pure as the waters of the Vasty Deep and his eyes shone with a beautiful light and the other's heart was as dark and cold as the waters of the Ink Sea and his eyes were as black as two pools of oil. Their two hearts beat as one, each balanced by the extreme of the other. So balanced were they, in fact, that they were both known as Meldrath because no one thought of them as two, let alone suspected the extremes of their souls. They lived in peace, gliding through Ak'Anon wrapped in each other's arms like slow dancers.

Meldrath's mother, however, wanted the two sons she thought she deserved and constantly sought a way to disconnect them. One day Fizzlethorpe Bristlebane, ruler of the Plane of Mischief disguised himself as a healer and gave their mother a magic sword to disconnect them. She ran home and, finding them asleep, plunged the sword between them. Both were unharmed and the two rubbed their eyes sleepily.

She rejoiced, but as she looked from one to the other she noticed for the first time that one was beautiful and the other ugly. One looked at her with loving, sweet eyes and the other with hatred. Suddenly, the beautiful Meldrath began to rise higher and higher into the air. His mother screamed and tried to hold him down but the ugly Meldrath bit her leg and stomped on her foot. The beautiful Meldrath floated up to the surface of Norrath and into the sky and was never seen again.

The ugly Meldrath was cast out by his bitter, angry mother and rejected by the people of Ak'Anon. He traveled to the east coast of the Steamfont Mountains, where he resides to this day. In the decades that have passed, Meldrath's hold upon the Steamfont Mountains became absolute – the drakes, harpies, and the precious Minotaurs had fallen under his malignant grip. The minotaurs have since constructed a mining complex, where Meldrath resides, overseeing the mining production of metals used to construct much of the clockwork mechanisms found throughout Steamfont and Ak`Anon. It is unknown as to what Meldrath's ultimate agenda may be, although some fear that it may be too late to stop this mad, hateful necromancer.

It is not an uncommon occurrence for young gnomish adventurers, or even the sturdier gnome guards who patrol the mountain region, to disappear and never be heard from again. Many believe this to be the work of Meldrath, who has made his absolute hatred and desire for revenge upon the people of Ak`Anon more than apparent.

Fortress Mechanotus
Home to the mad Gnome Meldrath, Fortress Mechanotus is a giant cuckoo clock of gears, sprockets, geysers and steam driven machines. Meldrath uses his mechanized creations to wreak his vengeance on his own people, who many years before rejected and exiled him. The Fortress is a dangerous place as Meldrath's insanity knows no limits.

Meldrath the Malignant is a well known trouble maker in the gnome city of Ak'Anon. His past is fraught with pain and hatred, and his anger toward the people of Ak'Anon knows no limits. For several decades Meldrath has been known to inhabit the mines in Steamfont. Too close for comfort for most gnomes, but at least King Ak'Anon and his people knew where he was. At least they thought they did.

The gnome that has been running the mines for so long is only an apprentice, given the unpleasant task by his master of masquerading as Meldrath to keep suspicion away from his other activities. During those decades Meldrath has been busy building Fortress Mechanotus. Mechanotus is a massive fortress ringed with gnomish siege devices, built on a plateau in the heart of the Steamfont Mountains. After more than twenty years his scheming and construction are complete! Faydwer will tremble with the power of Fortress Mechanotus as it rises into the air to begin its assault on Ak'Anon!

Meldrath's fortress swarms with various types of the creatures he calls steamworks. He has improved on the feeble clockworks created by other gnomes by giving them a volatile steam power source, making them much stronger and perhaps a bit less reliable. Minotaurs still handle Meldrath's slaves, which now include a tribe of unfortunate brownies that have adapted to life inside the massive metallic fortress. At the apex of Fortress Mechanotus is Meldrath's Majestic Mansion, the heart of a massive mechanomagical war machine. It is there that Meldrath himself resides. It is there that the destruction of Ak'Anon may yet find its beginning.

The Gyrospire Towers - Beza and Zeka
Gyrospire Beza and Zeka are two of three towers made by Meldrath specifically to guard his keep and serve as a flanking force in attacks. Gyrospire Azia was destroyed in the attack by the Gnomes from Ak`Anon while Gyrospire Beza and Zeka both remain functional. Beza is currently the oldest tower. It was the second Gyrospire created, and has become the "lead" tower. Zeka is the newest tower, and one of Meldrath's experiments at an ultimate weapon. At the top of the tower is a large steam and magic powered catapult that can be used with devastating ability, though it is a bit cumbersome and ends up best used as a siege weapon. There were many failures and many tower designs before Zeka, but they all failed spectacularly. This final tower is a success.

Despite attempts to have the towers completely clockwork controlled, Meldrath found that some times a more creative brain is required. While clockworks dominate in Gyrospire Beza there are gnomes, brownies, and minotaurs in the zone as well. Gyrospire Zeka is a different story. The Captain of the tower, a steamwork, took it upon itself to remove all living creatures from its tower. It has such a hatred for anything living that it has systematically killed everything from Meldrath's gnomes to the rats in the walls. Nothing lives within this tower. The only living being that it will tolerate in its domain is Meldrath, and only because its programming to not harm Meldrath is so deep it has not been able to alter it. Meldrath tolerates this destruction because to him even his living servants are just tools to use and discard.

S.H.I.P. Workshop (Somewhat Hazardous Industrial Prototype Workshop)
Designed by Meldrath and built by his minions, the tower was designed to be used as an experimental laboratory where somewhat hazardous experimental research is carried out. The tower was built away from Mechanotus as a preventative measure... Damaged inflicted during an experiment gone awry has left the tower somewhat immobile, and it is now towed with a large linked chain attached to Mechanotus.

The tower itself is designed so that dangerous portions are kept away from the central tower in the experimental pods. The zone is overseen by Head Administrative Grigano. Each of the pod rooms is somewhat autonomous, and under the supervision of a head scientist / researcher. The purpose of the tower is to conduct experiments, and produce new technology, although for some reason the tower never seems to produce much more than the occasional ill-fated explosion.

Steam Factory
Unseen beneath the Fortress Mechanotus lies a vast network of tunnels, mines, and caverns. These tunnels are the heart of Meldrath's operations. Mines, living quarters, and manufacturing plants could all be found being worked to capacity. As with the fortress, no one outside knew of the tunnels even with several of them extending beneath land the gnomes of Ak'Anon were quite familiar with. It wasn't until the fortress rose into the air that this vast network was revealed.

The majority of the tunnels were left behind when the fortress lifted off. Many of the tunnels left behind collapsed, crushing those unfortunate enough to have been left there. Taken with the fortress were rooms central to the operation of the fortress and Meldrath's mansion. Several power stations to keep the fortress aloft along with the primary manufacturing facility and foundry were all left in good repair. These together with the limited mining under the flying fortress allow Meldrath to continue his operations and attacks on Ak'Anon.

The Steam Factory is filled with Meldrath's minions. Gnomes supporting Meldrath are in charge of operations in the tunnels. They are tasked with keeping things running at levels meeting Meldrath's expectations. Steamworks can be found in all areas of the tunnels, helping with manufacturing, mining, or guard patrols. Minotaurs provide slave handling and brute labor. The brownies of the tunnels receive the dubious honor of being the lowest on the chain of command and receive the most hazardous duties. However, a small group of the brownies have broken away from working for Meldrath and are working day and night to thwart the operations of the Steam Factory and the entire fortress.

Meldrath's Majestic Mansion
Meldrath's Majestic Mansion sits atop the massive flying fortress called Mechanotus. The mansion is a marvel of metal, beautiful yet harsh and hard. There are few concessions to comfort in this place. Steam, oil and water pipes line the walls and act as support pillars for arching galleries and servants quarters alike. Gears and rivets can be seen on the walls and ceilings. The surfaces are metal panels and everything echoes with the sound of metal meeting metal. And yet the place has a powerful beauty to it that even the most conservative Koada'Dal will recognize.

There is more to Meldrath's Mansion than its appearance. There are secrets hidden there, some of which can be discovered by simple exploration. The more interesting secrets are told through stories or legends. It is said that Meldrath built his mansion to be a terrible walking steamwork in its own right. He intended to crush Ak'Anon and then rest his own mansion on the bones of the city where he was born.

Meldrath's plan failed when he brought his mansion up onto its two splayed feet. It stood there for several minutes before collapsing under its own weight. No harm came to the mansion, so strongly was it built and magically protected, but many were crushed under the device or killed inside when it fell. Meldrath eliminated any living servants and slaves that witnessed his failure or so claim the few that escaped.

Today the mansion is again fully staffed with brownie slaves, minotaur slavers and of course a large and frightening variety of steamworks. A steamwork is a modified clockwork. Meldrath, never satisfied with anything that comes from Ak'Anon, has added a steam power source to his clockworks that supplants the wind-up power source (which is used as a backup system). This has made his new steamworks a lot faster and stronger. It has also made them a lot less reliable.

For tasks that his steamworks can't attend to, such as climbing inside dangerous machinery to clean or repair them, Meldrath has enslaved several generations of brownies. Many of these poor creatures have come to believe that the life they live now is the life they were meant for. They dress in patchwork rags and maintain their tribal markings, but use grease to paint themselves rather than berry juice. There is a small rebel faction hiding in the steam tunnels below the mansion, but their lives are constantly at risk from clockworks specifically sent into the small tunnels to hunt them down.

Anyone stepping foot in Meldrath's Magnificent Mansion must be very bold, for death awaits the unwanted visitor, with their last vision being that of glowing red eyes and a feeling of heat mixed with the smell of oil and grease.

Curse of the Bloodmoon
The Loping Plains occupy the central area of Faydwer. Once a healthy habitat for a large variety of Tunare's creations, the Loping Plains has become cursed and twisted by the influence of dark powers. From the south, the dark forces of the Bloodmoon tribe creep out from Bloodmoon Keep threatening to consume the land, while the curse of an angry god pulses from the northern coast and the Hills of Shade.

Little is known about this new tribe of orcs, but they are believed to be a splinter group from the Crushbone clan led by Ralkor Bloodmoon also known as, "The Prophet". Several rumors that these orcs are lycanthropic have drawn Norrath's most famous werewolf hunters, the Fangbreakers, to the Plains. Larquin Fangbreaker and his band of hunters have come in hopes of whipping out this new curse before it can spread beyond the plains. An unlikely ally has also emerged from the depths of Darkhallow to combat this new curse, but their ultimate goal is as yet unknown.

Along the north coast lies the Hills of Shade, a once lush landscape cursed by the fury of an angry goddess. Damned spirits of Humans and Elves roam through the ruins of their once beautiful cities, cursed to replay the fateful actions of their final days for eternity. The powerful energy of the curse has drawn several visitors to the hills. A holy order of paladins hopes to cleans the curse and free the damned spirits from their torment. Nearby, a conclave of necromancers hopes to harness the power of the curse and use it for their own malicious plans.

Meanwhile, in a dark crypt beneath the hills, the Soulbleeder continues to amass the power of thousands of souls and an army of undead. Soon the Soulbleeder will run out of spirits to consume in the Hills of Shade and certainly head south to begin the culling of the living.

Bloodmoon Keep
Bloodmoon Keep was once the elven holy site known as Faygannen, Temple of the Vines. Decades ago the vampire prince Mayong Mistmoore grew worried at the proximity of the holy site to Castle Mistmoore. He sent his forces to destroy the temple and cover it in a dark curse, trapping the spirits of the slain elves in the halls of the castle. For many years the elven ghosts suffered in silence, unable to pass into the Realm of Growth and the presence of Tunare. Now, with the arrival of Ralkor Bloodmoon, the desolate spirits of Faygannen find themselves twice cursed.

Once the Prophet of Clan Crushbone, Ralkor Bloodmoon failed in a foolish coup to overthrow Emperor Crush. Bloodmoon barely escaped with his life and a small band of loyal orcs into the wilds of the Faydark. Somewhere between the Crushbone court and Faygannen, the Bloodmoon tribe was overtaken by a dark curse and infused with terrible, feral might. The Fangbreakers, a society of werewolf hunters, has begun to investigate the source of their new vigor, but have so far had little success.

Travelers say that a new race of lycanthropes stirs within Bloodmoon Keep. Ralkor may be a beast by nature, but his cunning cannot be denied and his ambition knows no limits. Given time the shadow of the Bloodmoon could overtake all of Faydwer.

Hills of Shade
The Elddar elves fled Tunaria, the land now known as Antonica, to escape the destruction that Solusek Ro wrought upon their land. They found their way east, to Faydwer. Over time on the new continent, the Elddar branched off into two distinct tribes: the Koada'dal and the Fier'dal. A fraction of the Fier'dal population settled in the Hills of Shade, creating a small village they named Kirathas. The elves of Kirathas cherished nature, and resided in simple wooden huts not unlike the structures of Kelethin.

Much later, an enterprising group of humans led by their captain Han Jensen, "discovered" Faydwer while searching for profitable fishing routes. They erected a crude port on the northern coast, opposite from Kirathas in the southwest, and named it Blackwater. Under Jensen's orders, they made a point of keeping Blackwater's location a closely guarded secret. This protected the sanctity of their bountiful fishing port, but it also eliminated any possibility of a rescue should disaster strike.

It was only a matter of time before the elves and the humans met. The first introduction was between a young fisherman, Fendel, and the daughter of Kirathas' leader, an elven girl named Amber. They stumbled upon one another at an elder oak tree. Their initial fear of each other melted away, replaced by curiosity. Curiosity turned to friendship, and friendship blossomed into love. This was a union that was blessed by the goddess of love, Erollisi Marr.

Unfortunately, the subsequent interactions between the citizens of Kirathas and Blackwater were anything but blessed. Territorial skirmishes and confrontations spiraled out of control, escalating into all-out war between the two villages. Not long after Amber gave birth to Norrath's first half-elf, she was slain by her own father. He felt the act of sacrifice would end the conflict, but Fendel's screams of anguish reached Erollisi's ears. She descended upon the squabbling tribes, furious that her gift of love would be twisted into such hatred and pain. She cursed the inhabitants of the hills to relive their mistakes, forever.

Today, the Hills of Shade are haunted by all manner of twisted and tortured creatures. The residents of Kirathas and Blackwater continue to battle each other even in death, seemingly unaware of their tragic fate. The elves' ancient burial catacombs, the Crypt of Shade, are overrun with the undead. Feeding off of the decay are a vicious new breed of Sporali, darkly transformed by the remains they consume. The foliage of the grove, disfigured by the divine curse, stand guard near a statue to Erollisi. A flock of crow aviaks known as the borrowers has taken up residence in the northwest, decorating their home with scavenged baubles, brightly colored cloth, and bone.

Two camps of relative newcomers have arrived in the Hills: the benevolent members of Camp Valor, and the gnomes that call themselves Bertoxxulous's Chosen. Both groups are recruiting passing adventurers for assistance with their wildly different goals. The gnomes' attention is on scavenging dead bodies. For a necromancer, the concentration of death and decay are a valuable untapped resource, and profitable if one is willing to risk one's neck collecting it. The paladins of Camp Valor have come to the Hills for a more noble cause. They desire nothing less than to fend off the undead and destroy the curse. They are failing thus far, however, and their membership dwindles.

The Crypt of Shade
Beneath the dark, damp earth of Hills of Shade lays the Crypt of Shade. The Crypt of Shade is where the elves of Kirathas interred their dead. Before the curse of Erollisi Marr struck the Hills of Shade, the Crypt was seen as a beautiful resting place for the ancestors of Kirathas. The vines and roots that formed the passageways were bright greens, pulsating with life. Many different kinds of blossoms could be found growing along the archways, acting as a colorful memorial for the dead. Now, the Crypt of Shade is just a series of twisted and tainted earth-filled tunnels where the undead Kirathas elves roam as zombies, spirits, and skeletons.

The curse also brought a necromancer that has been seen lurking within the tunnels of the Crypt. Many have passed on tales of the necromancer using the undead souls in the Crypt to perform dark rituals that enhance his own power while further corrupting the Hills of Shade. Speculation is that he will use the souls to raise an army to battle any foe foolish enough to cross him. Only those brave enough to venture into the Crypt of Shade will learn the truth of this.

Crystallos, Lair of the Awakened
Kerafyrm the Awakened, mightiest of the prismatic dragons, feels the world has gone awry with the passage of time and that things are not as Veeshan intended. As the great black dragon Kildrukaun prophesied, Kerafyrm believes that the time has come for him to take decisive action. It is time for Norrath to once again belong to dragon kind. Kerafyrm plans to recreate the world to abide by his laws and be prosperous only keeping those creatures he needs to begin again.

Within Kerafyrm's lair Crystallos are the Old Disciples of Kerafyrm, a faction of followers dedicated to serving the prismatic dragon. After Kerafyrm was imprisoned in Sleeper's Tomb, these servants came to Crystallos and constructed a Keep to serve as a gathering place for all those who follow him.

Construction was overseen by the 4 Ancient Dragons that are most loyal to Kerafyrm: Kildrukaun the black dragon prophet, Tjudawos the golden arch mage, Zeixshi-Kar the silver general, and Vyskudra the storm dragon.

The Keep is built to survive attacks from the other factions of Dragonkin. There are many different types of creatures found here: Dragons, Wurms, Wyverns, Drakes, and Golems. Any follower of Kerafyrm is welcomed, as long as they help defend the Keep from attacks.

The main defensive mechanism of the keep is magical. A barrier made up of energies stolen from the 4 elemental planes surrounds the it. The barrier is attuned to Dragonkin and repels them completely if they are not already loyal to Kerafyrm. There still remains a slim hope for those determined to thwart The Awakened - mortals may be able to slip through the barrier given the right preparations.

Once Kerafyrm was woken, his followers led him to the Keep to protect him and allow him to regain some of the power that was lost during his imprisonment. Kerafyrm also learned to sanctify his surroundings by using a special breath spell that covered objects, terrain, and constructs with his essence, giving them a prismatic sheen.

Using his immense power, as well as his knowledge of Norrath's creation, Kerafyrm's goal is nothing less than the destruction of all non-dragon life on the Norrath. He plans to take the eggs of his Dragonkin followers and sanctify them with his prismatic breath, thereby making them his own. This brood will be the foundation for Norrath's new age. Kerafyrm has entrusted their safety a dragon known only as "The Broodmother," her mind completely warped by his power, living only to serve and protect the eggs entrusted to her.

Kerafyrm knows that a war will surely come, and this time he does not intend to be stopped.

Above info is © Sony Computer Entertainment America Inc. and reproduced from the various files located in your EQ directory, from the main EQ site, the EQMac site, or from one of the release sites, so any typos or grammatical errors are theirs.

If you have more detailed lore from manuals or supplements, I'd like to include that info. Please post or PM me at Samanna.net or EQLive.

Want more lore?

Roztov's Lore Library

Turlo's compilation of all in-game books

Nadia's EQ History & Lore pages

Lore of Norrath

1st Fist of Light's Codex of War