Ambassador Tukufu Val'Holryn,

Your missives are a welcome intellectual curiosity as always.
Given your remarkable capacity for nosing into mysteries decayed beyond dust and emerging no more than slightly mussed, I've a topic to broach if you lack for diversions: the history of the Kurenthe's of the Blessed Lands.

The identities and actions of those so-terribly obliterated souls could make a poignant sidebar to your letters from the First City. As Laerestri we are asked to bear into battle banners we know not the meaning of, and having kicked the dust of those desolate lands recently as well I'm...overwhelmed by the frustration of feeling out of place in what once was my home.

How can I tread the avenues of Belestor and yet be lost?

Cordially,
Vaize; Irregular, disciple of Anaphylaxia, servant of Belisarda.

Post Script: it's likely your investigation will ruffle feathers. As always, I'll stand beside you. Them who can't dissuade you with words will likely attempt to silence you with steel. Trust that regardless of whether they depart for the Cauldron or the Orumar, I'll not hesitate to send them off with my usual murderous aplomb.

Cousins, Comrades and Gentle Readers,

I have the good fortune to report to you that I am in the final phases of a grand mercantile adventure! I am proud to announce that soon, assuming the paperwork goes through, I will be opening Litera Scripta Manet in the First City. It is my hope that this fine store will swiftly become the premier emporium for purchasers of the written word. If you should make it to the First City through the hazards of the Pilgrims Way I hope you will stop by and peruse the fine scrolls, folios and illuminated books we will have for sale. It is just a matter of adding a few small measures to attend to the security of our rare books room.

However I have already discovered that having a more permanent location is not entirely free from inconveniences. Some of my fellow Irregulars and adventuring companions now know where to consistently find me by courier. And their letters petition for my labor on esoteric fronts. For example, a kelekine I know asks, “I've a topic to broach if you lack for diversions: the history of the Kurenthe in the Blessed Lands. The identities and actions of those so-terribly obliterated souls could make a poignant sidebar to your letters from the First City.”

Oh. Well. Is that all? Gentle readers I ask for your sympathy. How is one to pluck a few elorii names from across a gulf of almost 5000 years of history? From a time before humans were taking records in the First City? Never mind the three times when the First City was overrun and sacked or the period where it was abandoned for centuries. And dare I mention that even today half of the city, and presumably half of it's records, lie in the ruins of the Unclean Zone?

For a sidebar. If I lack for diversions. I wonder if Umayid and Platiro had elorii associates who pestered them with such questions? Still, in the end the question is honestly asked. And comes from an Irregular. I suppose I should try to feel flattered.

So, being educated and a resourceful Altherian, what can I discover about the Kurenthe unleashed around the Blessed Lands? In short, and as you might guess, almost nothing. If victory in this task is a collection of names then I must, to my frustration, confess that I am defeated. Still “almost nothing” is not quite absolutely “nothing.”

The closest I can come is a reference in the history of the Blessed Lands that refers to a group of elorii who enacted the ritual of Kurenthe. A strict reading of this source suggests the Death Curse was only unleashed once, but jointly, by the hands of several powerful individuals which presumably magnified its power and range. This curse is described as killing thousands and transforming the Blessed Lands from a lush jungle to the badlands we know today. Such magics must have been comparable to those unleashed in the war with the il’Huan responsible, so we are told, for the creation of the Gulf of Yaris.

That is the only source from the Blessed Lands that was exactly on topic. Any other information needs to be extracted from comparisons. Or taken from contested accounts.

With some digging you can find accounts of the Kurenthe uttered in the Bay of Seremas. The names Folgos and Kethiel are comparatively well known as is their repulsion of an Ymandrake invasion. The results of that Kurenthe were the rising of undead sailors and the mutation of wildlife into dangerous monsters. Most famous of these examples are the carnivorous Black Flamingos and semi-intelligent tree climbing caimans called dark-o-diles. I would love the chance to dissect dead specimens! These facts might be of use in this case, for understanding the Blessed Lands Event through comparison and extrapolation.

I find it at least potentially curious that two elder elorii were involved in Seremas and that there are essentially two lingering manifestations of the great death curse. One wonders if the same pattern holds true in the Blessed Lands? If we could count all the specific forms of environmental hazard and weather mutations, would we know how many elorii invoked Kurenthe? I do not know. But will start a list. I have seen and can name: the Blood Snow, The Black Hail, the Thorn Hail and a strange Freezing phenomenon. The Andyar surely could tell us more. We may thus suspect that there were more than 4 individuals involved.

Some additional information about the Kurenthe in general can be found in the uncensored accounts from the Milandesian Court Scribe Polon val’Holryn. Polon served King Osric II and compiled a report on the elorii at the request of his King in 1021. His work is controversial and often contested, not least because it contains the testimony of “Olisand of Seltemeris, Sage and Friend to the Elorii.” Some historians claim that this man and town are fabricated, and large chunks of the report are essentially fiction. Others scholars suggest Polon was protecting the identity of a source. To my ear both the names Olisand and Seltemeris sound closer to Eloran than to Milandesian so I number myself among the suspicious. Still, there are records of an Olisand at the University of Naeraanth. So I grudgingly I believe the testimony was a least based on a real person. Whatever the flaws of the Polon Report, I believe overall that it remains one of humanity’s most illuminating documents concerning the affairs of the elorii. After failing to find any further period accounts I went and brushed the dust off my copy.

The Polon Report makes only a brief mention of Kurenthe and describes Archmage Telas as the last elorii to leave Belestor in an overall less cataclysmic transition. It also mentions that some of those in the Host of 100,000 also invoked Kurenthe around lost Arkosia at a date probably after the event in the Blessed Lands. However the practice was rapidly ended. First Auros the Avenger and later Magros commanded their troops to stop and honor the will of Ardelia, even if it meant defeat. To my knowledge no Malfelen has invoked it since. Impressive to me considering how little else they seem to honor of the culture of their northern cousins.

I find of interest that there is no record or mention of the Kurenthe being used in the dim past. Nether while enslaved nor when fighting against the armies of Ssethregore. Either the elorii did not know how to invoke the Kurenthe at that time or, amazingly to me, they did not think the stakes were high enough to justify its use.

Finally there remain a small handful of accounts from the Civil War that a few of the laerestri tried to invoke Kurenthe against the Valinor in Grand Coryan during the final assault on the Imperial Palace. I am not sure what to make of them. Anyone who has gone to see Grand Coryan can see that no such curse was actually unleashed. Did younger elorii try and fail? Or are these wild tales? It seems clear to me that if it was not culturally appropriate to invoke the curse when seeking freedom from slavery or from being evicted from their homelands, then it would not be appropriate when meddling in a foreign war. I tend to disregard these tales. But if they did try and fail it suggests that only elder elorii are able to work this dark magic.

And that concludes my research into the elorii death curse. I doubt any human sage has more knowledge than I on that topic, but there are other potential sources. If anyone wants greater details I suggest sending inquires to Ethelios, the ever shining city and capitol of Elonbe. Surely Archmage Telas and other who lived through those times could elucidate more if they wish. To Vaise the kelekine, I wish you good luck with future inquires.

I remain, to all of my Gentle Readers, a humble and obedient scribe,

Tukufu, Ambassador of Altheria

Gentle Readers,

You know in your hearts this is true: Sometimes is does not pay to answer your door.

As I have mentioned I am finishing the paperwork to launch Litera Scripta Manet in the First City, which will become the finest place to acquire your reading materials whatever your tastes may be. Poetry? Histories? I am stocking it. Plays? Philosophical treatises? We will have them! I am very excited about what we will have to offer. Our future rare book room will be filled with wondrous things. I ask you to trust me when I say it will be amazing.

However everyone now seems to know where to find me.

Don’t get me wrong. I would love to renew old acquaintances and forge new ones. You already show good taste in reading my letters. Even if you are a pilgrim to the First City, and I pray you’ve had the good sense to come armed, I would love to hear the tale of your travels over tea. Or maybe something stronger. However I do not think it unreasonable of me to ask you to show a modicum of respect and wait for the sun to rise before knocking on my door.

It was before sunrise. I had been celebrating my good fortune the night before. Perhaps too heavily. I answered the door. It was a gnome. Even filthier than normal. It almost looked like he was covered in ooze or slime. I regretted my choice instantly.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked. My head hurt too much to force push him away.

"Yes, yes, good sir! Old books you are interested in? I has ones I do! Well, not me. But me friends. Me friends do. Lots of friends” Uncharitably, I found this last statement suspect. “Tis the very Word of Illiir! Tells a story. Tells a story about the Dwarves. Perhaps you've heard of their lament. The curse that Illiir put on them.”

As it happens I do. Umayid val’Abebi, maybe the greatest scholar of my grandparents’ generation left a wonderfully detailed account of his time in Solanos Mor. I own a copy of course. And through further adventures with the Irregulars I discovered much more myself in the Valley of Nis. But you were most likely there yourself. I hardly need to elaborate.

I couldn’t help but check to make sure the gnome’s hands were normal sized. I think a managed to mumble, “Excuse me, do I know you? Were you the one with the skull fetish stalking me from awhile back?”

“Here where are my manners.” I expected an introduction of some sort but then he continued with, “Let me let you read it. Read it yourself. Here it is. Here it is! Yes. Read the first line.”

All but bouncing up and down the little gnome handed me a discolored codex opened to page 122. His hands left further stains on the abused covers.

“You poor long suffering book,” I thought.

Then through my headache and the fog of too little sleep I experienced an unfocused but heightened concern that my own personal hygiene might be at considerable risk. Permanently? The gnome must have sensed my hesitation.

“No bother. I read it for you..... Illiir looked down from the Paradise of the Gods....."

Then like a bursting dam his words poured out.

“There. You smart. Surely you see. The Gods are not from here. They are there! Then Illiir comes here. Curses me mother. Curses me he does. Then leaves. Goes back. Doesn't come back, except to cure his lady in Old Coryan. All god's do is curse.” I admit it. In that endless moment I myself felt cursed by the gods and thought to myself, “yes indeed you are so very right we are both cursed.”

“Got to go. Too many. Spies. All around. Here you keep. Copy. Publish. You smart. People listen.”

And with that he was gone.

So here I am with a discolored religious tract mostly from the Illuminated Scrolls, heavily annotated in questionable penmanship, concerning the fall of the dwarves from what they once were. In a pique of whimsy I went through the codex and notes carefully. Factually, to my surprise, it appears to be quite accurate. To the right collector, even valuable.

Too many of my mornings of late are vaguely like this.

If you are reading my letters I assume you already know the dwarves' secret. Out of respect for the Tir Betoqi, who I have come to admire, I will not reprint their so called shame here.

One thing to come out of this early morning misadventure is the realization that I have neglected a possible revenue stream for Litera Scripta Manet. I should carry religious tracts to also cater to the Pilgrim trade like everyone else. I’ll even be earning their coin honestly. A cynic might say that will make me unique in all the Blessed Lands.

So if you should come to the First City and desire copies of the Illuminated Scrolls or the Kahlindrul, have no fear. I will have such supplies for you. As well as many other things. Until that day … I continue to remain your obedient scribe,

Tukufu, Ambassador of Altheria

Gentle Readers, Cousins and all Comrades,

Greeting! I write to you, not from the First City where I now reside, but from the Corlathean Mountains not too far from Enpyben. I bring word to you from the Vault of Larisa. It is hard for me to fully convey the size of the expedition assembled by the Emerald Society. Imagine a sea of tents. Scholars from across the known lands congregate and debate. An army of diggers toil to locate and breach the outer wall. Guards maintain supply depots. A small army of 70-90 hardened veterans and investigators wait to spread out and map in the first phase of exploration. By far the resources expended on this endeavor exceed that of the dig at Orad in 1037 or the spectacular disaster of the failed Raid on Myrantis of 998. I have been privileged to be a witness.

And now I share with you what I have seen and learned.

I suppose I must begin with a brief account of what was known about the Vault before the expedition penetrated its walls. First let me say first and foremost that it had been suggested that it was the home of the Tear of Larissa, an actual crystallized tear from the Goddess! The Tear was allegedly shed when the Goddess saw some horrible outcome in a distant future that drove to hedonism. But that was not the only legend around this place. It has also been suggested that the Vault was actually the main base and headquarters for the Legio Fortuna Aequitas, a First Imperium Legion that fell in Leonydas’ conquest of the First City. Finally some have suggested that the Vault of Larissa was somehow a part of the Citadel of Larissa in the Blessed Lands and a repository for the Prophesies collected during the First Imperium.
You can see why such a place generated so much interest in the Emerald Society!

A landslide had buried the building entirely so the expedition dug down to and broke through a skylight in what turned out to be a shrine to Illiir. Indeed the top floor was almost entirely dedicated to individual shrines to the members of the Pantheon. I currently find this highly curious since one would expect a more centralized and unified temple structure, but there was no discovered analogue to the main Cathedral found in the First City dedicated to all the Gods of man. It may well be that talk of a more Pantheonistic faith in the Imperium is overstated. Or this arraignment could be an outlier. There is so much we just don’t know!

Explorers assembled into tactical teams and rappelled down. Alas, I was not initially one of them! The Emerald Society brought me there for my skill as a historian and architect, so they initially kept me at the surface for analysis of recovered texts as well as aid to the cartographers who assembled the notes of the explorers into a comprehensive map. Still, I got to watch the first wave of explorers enter from the top of the skylight and was gratified by the way they scattered in all directions like cockroaches into the gloom.

Maybe that doesn't sound flattering. But cockroaches are quick and hard to kill. And they get into all sorts of nooks and crannies that are hard to reach. I mean it as a compliment I assure you.

Such wonders were recovered! Collections of First Imperium texts abounded. Sets of texts on medicine! Metallurgy! Alchemy! Whole shelves of myths and legends recorded in the First Imperium. A fabulous and complete First Imperium text of the Scriptorum Infernale in immaculate condition. Several personal journals from the time of the fall of the First Imperium including one from a "Lady Attia val'Dellenov." A history scroll of a language allegedly used by a Gar tribe. Let me tell you that set off a scholarly debate! For my part I still have some doubts about its authenticity, and the majority opinion remains that the Gar are illiterate. And then there were the rubbings of some kind of alien writing, etched on the walls in some language even the val’Abebi can’t decipher.

Ah, forgive me gentle readers. Perhaps such things do not make your heart beat faster. Should I tell you instead of ancient weapons recovered? Swords of all kinds, spears, wands, armors and shields. They were covered in ancient runes of power, some amalgamated and others of unusual permanence. Scrolls of exotic spells no longer in common use. Gems liberated. Ancient coins extracted? From the last we are hastily compiling the names of several Imperators who were previously unrecorded, before the Emerald Society presumably parcels them out to collectors.
So many strange denizens also made a home of the Vault.

A tribe of the Gar laired in part of it. They provided stiff resistance to exploration and it’s something of a mystery of how they got there. The only other access besides our entry point seems to be tunnels that lead down the Endless Dark and the Lavender Way. The Gar are not known to inhabit such regions. We are still looking for their means in ingress and egress. However at least two vals have returned with “tales” of strange psionic powers wielded by the tribes leaders including a psychic screaming cacophony; this has provoked much whispered discussion in some quarters of the expedition.

Even harder to believe are the reports of giant talking spiders, carnivorous flightless birds, a corpse dangler worm 200 feet long, and multi armed Baboon-Rhino Men. And the bound Dragon that slumbered. In the first moments of that report I tell you there was a real sense of panic! Almost people were ready to scatter pell-mell. I am happy to report cooler heads prevailed and that the Dragon report ultimately proved to be mostly, but not entirely, untrue.

Less hard to believe are the tales of undead, shades of the legionnaires, constructs, traps and bound elementals and infernals. Given the quality of the explorers our list of casualties was light.

And that is not all! There is much more to report. The discovery of the armories. Discussions with restless shades. Dwarves The arrival of opposing armies. However I can see that this dispatch already grows long, and I have an autopsy on a Singarthan to conduct. I will write again to complete this report. Soon, I promise. Until then …

I remain your humble and obedient servant,

Tukufu, Ambassador of Altheria

Gentle Readers, Cousins and all Comrades,

Greeting! I write to you, not from the First City where I now reside, but from the Corlathean Mountains not too far from Enpyben. I bring word to you from the Vault of Larisa. Previously I have written in a general way of the items extracted and the creatures discovered within. I wish now to pivot to how the expedition and the wider world have interacted.

For better or for worse the Emerald Society was very public in how it announced the location of the Vault of Larissa. The results for their approach include, I believe, a dramatic reduction in overhead costs and a surplus of “specialized labor” to go in with the first wave of exploration. The very public nature of the undertaking however surely allowed other organizations to make their own plans and mobilize their own forces.

So it was that the Expedition to Larissa’s Vault was interrupted close to noon by the simultaneous arrival military forces from the Singarthan Trolls who came from the southwest, and Reavers who marched from the northeast. It is not yet clear to anyone if these forces coordinated. Maybe instead they were located at a safe remove and started marching at the same speed as soon as the Vault was breached. Though well organized in many respects, the leadership of the Emerald Society DID NOT expect to have to fight a military engagement so close to the city of Enpyben!

Such unwanted attention! I tell you I didn't need a third eye to see either force alone could have been the end of everyone. Though the camp had guards and many of the surface staff were capable combatants, we were disorganized and dismayed. Miraculously the explorers returned as a body to the surface just in time to skirmish with both armies while we rallied; it would be only later that I learned of how the explorers knew of the attack. Their brave actions bought the encampment precious time, but even when everyone who could wield a sword was fielded it was still a desperate struggle! We were outnumbered. Even with a central core of healers to restore the wounded, our forces were slowly pushed inwards and casualties mounted. Despite a strong showing from many champions I do not like to think what would have happened if relief had not come to save us.

A third force arrived. Dwarves from Solonos Mor, Encali, Tir Betoq, and even a few survivors of Tultipet. They all marched to offer us relief from the actions of their ancient foes.
I saw directly but intermittently as I battled for my life. I engaged with the Singarthan line, and their fell reputation is well earned. They have a thick carapace, stand eight feet tall and coordinate their efforts with military precision. Still I gave a good accounting of myself, and am now in a position to provide hard earned expert information about their claws, weaponry, regeneration and sorceries.

One also continues to hear odd stories about Singarthan warriors eating the hearts of their fallen mages, so with help I was later able to dissect the one I killed in the fighting. We found there was a strange sludge inside the heart. It still is not clear to me if it is their blood, or something else. Perhaps we’ll find out; we bottled some of it and sent it to a noted alchemist in Enpyben. I have hopes this autopsy can shed light on the mystery of this story. If true is it purely cultural? Or is there a physical explanation for the behavior?

I digress some.

With the camp secured we had a chance to talk with the dwarves, share discoveries found in the Vault and discuss the attack on the camp. I had little time to partake in everything as I was instructed to analyze the attack and help secure the area. I regret to inform you all, gentle readers, that as bad as the Singarthans seemed, the Reavers with greater numbers were worse. Further many elements of the attack seem downright odd, and I can only conclude that their benighted presence in the world is expanding and evolving in directions not previously recorded. First I should report to you that the Reavers unquestionably fielded eldritch casters. To my knowledge no other dwarven enclave has members born with “the sorcerer’s gift.” What exactly might be involved in this is a matter of pure speculation, but given other reports of strange runes on their armor I fear in total this may be a sign of Ymandrake involvement. A second deviation from standard Reaver tactics was the fielding and deployment of gnomes.

Puzzled by both mysteries I went to the dwarves and sought counsel. You would think they would be eager to help since we oppose this ancient dwarven scourge; but instead I received requests that I use what influence I had in securing the Tear for this or that enclave. How frustrating! They expressed a belief that the Tear could either help them forge the “Perfect Item” or that its oracular powers could be used to reveal another way to end their curse. Only a Tultipetan seer, Sylerak spoke otherwise.

Sylerak. I wished he had just answered my damned questions. Instead I got an earful of dire warnings from his visions. The most salient of these were that the gem in the Vault was not really a tear from the Goddess, but instead a baleful artifact from the elder days before the coming of the Pantheon of Man. He insisted the Tear was sentient, that it wanted to be found, and that it stole the souls of those who died around it, damning them to remain as shades. In his version of events the Vault was a repository for dangerous items of power and that the Legio Fortuna Aequitas were the guardians.

I like my history from books, not dreams. So I’m afraid in frustration I snapped at him to keep his talk of visions to the future. What I needed to do was confirm there were no Eldritch casters among the Tultipetins and that the dwarves had never seen Reavers field gnomes before. He seemed dispirited by my response and I was immediately embarrassed. Then he spoke further softly:

“The future? I have seen things of that too. If the Orb,” he would not call it the Tear, “is brought to the surface then calamity follows. From the necropolis of Canceri to the library of Altheria, a shadow comes from the west and covers the land. And the stones of the castles of Milandir and of the villas of Coryan are cracked, and their foundations are rent. There is fire everywhere in the cities. And he children of the Defender are not there to man the walls of civilization for they will have already bled themselves to death. And those men who survive will be little more than animals who are hunted in the night by wolves.”

I am somewhat ashamed to confess I backed away in horror from such terrible words. Would that I had never spoken with this Sylerak! I remain haunted now by his tattooed face and his sad eyes. I can hear his last words to me still, “It all hangs by a slender thread.”

Nerius of Solonos Mor later told me to pay him no mind. “He’s bitter over what happened to Tultipet. And in his bitterness he seeks to deny salvation for other enclaves. Many things are seen of the future, but these are only possibilities.” The Encali and Tir Betoqi representatives were of similar mind. I can only hope they are right.

I suppose I should mention the mad 9 foot tall elorii who wandered off just after the battle. That was by far the weirdest thing I saw that day. Beaten up and wounded by the Singarthans I made no effort to chase him down. Neither did anyone else. My relief was palpable as he wandered into the mountains. One group said they encountered him below in the Shrine to Anshar. Why he was there in the Vault I couldn’t begin to say. Much less why he would have been in a Shrine to one of our Gods. I assume this report must be faulty and he was instead held in some abandoned cell...though for the life of me I can’t imagine what he eat or drank all these years. No one will admit knowing who he was or admitting to setting him free.

Somewhere, the energy for more exploration was found and the Teams were sent back in. I only just found out that the teams had heard an icy voice in their heads calling them back to the surface…and that some of the teams had heard the voice in the Shrine to Larissa. This voice apparently belongs to the Tear, which is indeed … aware. The teams were instructed to try and go deeper.

More mysteries were found on lower levels, including the Library and the Forbidden Vault. The Singarthans had somehow just raided it carrying off the bulk of its contents. Was the surface attack a diversion for them? It is hard to know. But the items that remained in the Vault were both powerful, and cursed.

And of course, the Tear. It was indeed found and liberated after strange negotiations, bypassed traps, and defeated guardians. There was great discussion of what to do with it. At least some explorers were moved by Sylerak’s words and voted to hide or destroy it. Others wanted to arrainge access to it by the dwarven leaders. But eventually it was brought up. The Emerald Society accepted it, I thought gleefully, and in turn gave it to the Mother Church representative. That representative then said that the Mother Church then renounced any claim to other items in the Vault. Oh politics, you fragrant rose!

Sixteen hours of relative madness, now passed. Most of the elite adventures are marching home as I write. The the real work of begins. We’ll spend another eek here doing the less glamorous but necessary work of packing, cataloging and translating. And now that everything is mapped and marked bellow we’ll make a few more descents under more controlled conditions. The dwarves have agreed to provide extra security. Who knows where the bottom of all this new knowledge and secrets lies? Not I.

With the passing of the adventurers and the Tear from this location, things have settled down. The Gar are dead or routed and the mournful ghosts are gone too. With the Tear? Much of what Sylerak has said is now proven to be true and I begin to fear his words all over again. And I expect that the repercussions of opening the Vault are only just starting. A glib man would call this job security.

I remain your obedient scribe,

Tukufu, Ambassador of Altheria

Gentle Readers,

Once while delving beneath the earth I encountered semi intelligent constructs left over from the First Imperium. And when the group I travelled with was forced to do battle with them, they ultimately released the elemental spirits that had been animating them as they were destroyed. I was struck, in that endless moment, by the comparison between the spirits housed in the constructs and of our own souls housed within our bodies. I’ve wondered a little about the nature souls ever since.

Usually it is easy to tell something with a soul from everything else that does not.

I have had the dubious pleasure of encountering and interacting with creatures that lack souls.
For example I have visited the ancient undead of Ventaka who crawl slowly through time beneath the dome of their city. The overwhelming majority of them are depraved monsters bereft of anything that resembles empathy. I have also briefly encountered the thralls of Ymandragore, constructed through the perverse arts of fleshcrafting and bio-construction. It doesn’t take a magical third eye to see that they are alien and utterly inhuman. No one could mistake these creatures for someone with a soul. They are chilling and alien in their interactions even when not overtly hostile.

It would seem that there is a bright line between such states as having a soul and lacking one.

But dig a little deeper and the lines begin to blur. I have met and talked with of two undead beings that still exhibit signs of empathy and concern for the affairs of the living. One exists in Canceri. The other, surprisingly, exists in Milandir. Why are these two cases so different than the norm? One might mistake them for the living. Does some fragment of a soul continue to reside in them? Or is it just because they are relatively young as undead, and are doomed to become more monstrous with age? Or perhaps worse yet, are they just faking it skillfully? I do not know; and I have no idea how one might safely find out such knowledge.

Other issues arise.

Who has a soul and where do they come from? If you are an elorii your soul comes from the Ourumar. No laerestri disputes this, and I assume it is true. The Ourumar holds a monopoly on elorii souls. But wait! What if you are from Ssethregore? Tradition once held that your soul came from Kassegore. But what now? Some say that Kassegore has fallen? Or is dead. Where do Ssethric souls come from? The Varn? Somehow I doubt this. What of the Black Talon? Or the tribe of the Ghost Scales?

My best guess is that there is no overarching cosmic monopoly on souls. They must either come from Gods or at least powerful beings that have might similar to the Pantheon of Man.
And what of mankind? Do all souls of the great tribe of humanity come from the Cauldron? It seems to me that the answer should be yes; but there is indisputable evidence that humans were living on the Continent of Onara long before the Other or the Pantheon of Man ever came to its shores. What of them?

The best documented case of ancient humanity is the Pengik people who live in the Pricklespur Forest. There are records and stories confirming their contact with the Yahsregoran Empire, precursor to the hated Ssethregore of today. Given that pedigree it is possible that there were humans on Onara before there were elorii.

Where did their souls come from?

Frustratingly, the Illuminated Scrolls seem to be silent on the issue. Nothing I have seen explicitly states that all humanity’s souls come from and return to the Cauldron. For that matter nothing I have seen in the Illuminated Scrolls explicitly suggests that one or more of the Pantheon of Man even created mankind. No other historical records exist. Nothing survives from the Great War with the Other that ravaged humanity’s home before coming to Onara.

It may well be that wider humanity draws souls from different sources. I tracked down an Undir “priest” of some elemental cult in the First City to ask for their perspective on souls. I put to her directly the question of, “Where did her soul come from?” She smiled and began a long explanation of pagan rubbish that boiled down to a few ideas. First she said the idea of a soul was an artificial artifact of my world view; and that spirits naturally arise in the universe and dissolve over time. Finally she said it was that fear of death that made us long for some part of ourselves to exist after the passing of our body, and that the only immortality to be found is in the memories we pass on to the next generation. Crazy lady. She was nice enough, but I could tell she had never been forced by circumstance to do battle with lost shades. Memory indeed.

I hate ignorance. I hate it even more on fundamental matters. The lack of reliable information about the source and provenance of souls opens the door to all sorts of crazy talk such as the letters I receive from a paranoid, dirty gnome. Some of the ideas he wants to share about the soul are not remotely conventional. For example he recently wrote, “Oh surely you see. That is why the Curse. Dwarves want to be gods. Had birthing chamber. Had way to be gods they did. Had worshipers. Took worshipers from Illiir. Illiir jealous. He no like share. Tied mom’s soul to the heart stone. Can’t become god without soul. Soul the key. Need soul to be born. Be god, mean need big soul. Or lots of them. Me think soul stones trap. Keep soul from getting big. Cauldron also trap. Turns souls into soup. Soul can’t stand up if soup. Beltine mix soup. Keep souls from getting big. No big soul no god. See. God’s jealous. Fail empathy. No like to share...”

As ridiculous as these words are, there currently isn’t a coherent argument that can be mustered to refute these outrageous ideas. I feel there should be.

You might think such philosophy has little implications for the real world, but I wonder if Milandir has opened a can of worms with their acceptance of the Fire Dragon. Does this mean that the Milandesians now assert that the Black Talons face the Judgment of Nier at the end of their lives and come from and return to the Cauldron? Will the Black Talons accept ecclesiastical rulings from the Milandesian Bishops? Without thinking through the broader implications of their theology I fear they have planted seeds that could lead to future conflicts. In that light, my small, dirty, and surprisingly literate stalker does not seem so bad after all.

I remain your obedient scribe,

Tukufu, Ambassador of Altheria

Cousins and Comrades in Arms,

As a historian I place my faith in enlightened discourse and logic. And patterns. Patterns are hardly perfect. Still, patterns are like a good bet. I trust patterns.

I distrust prophesy. Prophesy squirms uncomfortably under my inspection. It remains opaque. Inevitably prophesy prove capable of multiple interpretations. Does this line mean this? Or that? In my limited experience prophesies only make sense in hindsight. Useful enough I guess, but in my opinion history already does this adequately.

None the less. When I find essentially the same prophesy within the course of a year or two from multiple sources it doesn’t take a magical Third Eye to see someone somewhere is trying really hard to get a message out. I just wish they would be clearer! Who is sending the message? What do they want me to do?

The fourth and last version of this prophesy came from the so called Tear of Larissa. It spoke psychically into the heads of many explorers on the excavation at the Vault of Larissa. The prophesy spoken was:

“Out of the west, thousands of pounding feet
Rush towards our beloved city
They shall first be saviors, then conquerors
He shall wear the crown of many kings
And Emperors will fall dead before him
The last was first and lost to us before she was found
Only the invisible knew her name
Until the god emperor stood on this ground.”

This “god emperor” has also been referred to as the “Destroyer” by other sources such as the Tultipetan prophet Sylerak who also outlined a coming disaster from the West. Other dwarves were quick to dismiss his words as the result of bitterness - from the destruction of his enclave. Given the sterling reputation of Solonos Mor I took some comfort from those words then. I grow more uneasy now.

A former scribe of the Imperial Court of Coryan allegedly suffered terrible prophetic, dreams. I was able to track this scribe down. Though the scribe wishes to remain anonymous I persuaded this person to share his or her dreams. This is what was seen:

From the far west a storm roils, a storm of vengeance against treacherous souls.
They sought to wash their hands of them and send them to their deaths. Where others found death, they survived; where others fell into thralldom they prospered. They shall return and exact their vengeance upon those that cast them aside as if they were bitter fruit worthy only for the garbage heap.

A variation of this prophesy have also been spoken of by mendicant illirite monks. Their version has a few more details. This vision further describes the god emperor/destroyer as having a halo of 12 keys and makes reference to the lifting of a great curse upon one people, but at a cost to their brother. My first instinct is to assume that these are references to the 12 Keys of Man and the Dwarves. But I could be wrong. No doubt it will all make sense when the dust settles.

Of course that really gets to the heart of the matter. I desire for there to be less dust in need of settling! You should too!

There are several commonalities in all versions. The destroyer comes from the West with a lot of people, presumably an army. What lands exist to the west? I know of only three places and each is more mysterious than the last. The lands of the Godless. The Andai Ascendency and Dhar Zhan Vor.

I know almost nothing of the lands of the Godless which are said to lie to the west of Khitan. Powerful rulers, perhaps sorcerers like the Sorceror King, govern city states. So I hear. I have had the misfortune of crossing paths with the agents of one, and remain frightened by their mysterious powers.

The Andai Ascendency worships their “One True God” on Islands far out in the Sea of Lanterns. They insist, to my irritation, that we have somehow gotten our religion all wrong and that the Pantheon of Man is but 12 facets of this singular divinity. Still the few I have met from this region care for the poor, seem nonaggressive and behave decently enough. I tend to discount an overt threat from the Andai Ascendency.

Finally there is Dhar Zhan Vor which is closest to Coryan. Its lands were once held by the val’Emman in the First Imperium and somewhere in there lie the ruins of their old provincial capital, Chendo. To all appearances the land is empty. Its borders are only occasionally marked by crystal towers. But those who go in do not return. The latest expedition of note was General Calemnon val’Assante at the head of the Legion of Heaven’s Blade.

Calemnon. If I could think of one name that might stop the heart of an Emperor, this might be it. I would generally question the wisdom of giving a legion to the son of the late Emperor Calcestus, but I will note he followed his marching orders obediently enough: Take the legion and go find out what is in … Dhar Zhan Vor. Some whisper that the Emperor sent his nephew there to meet his death. Others whisper that the Legion of Heaven’s Blade was a dumping ground for the worst from other Legions. These are not the sorts of whispers one says loudly in Grand Coryan, but they are persistent.

Is Calemnon somehow coming back? Are he and his men bitter about being cast aside like “rotting fruit?” Does he have some kind of plan to sit on the Throne of Man, bypassing the perceived slights he has received by his uncle the Emperor? I don’t know. But I grow wary. Whatever it is, there is trouble coming over the horizon.

Perhaps there are other fragments of prophesy out there that might tell us what we are expect to do to. Somehow we must stop calamity from befalling us all. I know it’s too much to hope some Celestial agent will point a glowing finger and say, “Introduce this one to the 2nd Gift!” Still, I call on all my past comrades at arms to turn some attention to the matter. Let us hope a solution appears.

Your obedient scribe,

Tukufu, Ambassador of Altheria

Tukufu, Ambassador of Altheria,

Oh wise and honorable Ambassador. From your writing I have gathered that you abode has been infested with pests. Rather a singular filthy pest who abuses both reason and the common tongues of man. You will be happy to know that I am an exterminator of pests. Perhaps we can find a mutual means to an end.

First, what I want. I want the Gnome known as Oozejumper eliminated. In this I think we are agreed. Also, I do not want you and your famous letters eliminated. In this I think we are also agreed. Sadly I don’t see either of these desires happening in the near future.

You see, my employer, a peculiarly violent sect of the church based in Coryan, wants Oozejumper in no uncertain terms silenced. Immediately. But this quarry has always seemed to elude me. (Perhaps there is more to that ooze than just stench?) So my employer is not happy. As they have been known to burn down fine establishments like yours in the middle of the night, owner’s presence notwithstanding, I am sure you understand why I want to keep my employer happy.

I’d also note that you have made knowledge of your association with my Quarry public, my employer would find you’re guilty by association. Indeed, I find that I have been dodging a process server from my employer these past few days. I have strong reason to suspect that it is a change of orders to include you among my list of targets. No. No. Your skin is mostly intact, as they would only want you in for “questioning”. But I’m sure that you would prefer not to be questioned in that manner.

So here is the deal. Help me, help you by giving me the information my employer seeks about the whereabouts of the gnome called Oozejumper and there will be no need for cats-of-nine tails and iron maidens.

Oh and I don’t wish any other bounty hunter to beat me to the hunt. So send the information by direct currier. My address is below.

Sincerely,
Acturis Borda-Vocis
Bounty Hunter

PS: First I hope you don’t mind that I have written you in High Coryani. Of all the languages of man. I find it the most appealing to converse with in written form. Conversely my native Unden is ill suited to higher callings. While your Altherian is far too technically oriented for pleasantries to be duly expressed. Anyhow, if you lack the training to read High Coryani with all the depth that it allows, please, by all means take advantage of the translations of this letter that I have appended below.

PPS. Also I hope you don’t mind that I’ve posted this letter on your bulletin board. It is after all the dark of night, and I don’t wish to be as intrusive.

PPPS. I seem unable to determine which of the many bulletin boards across Onara is yours. Your letters are very pervasive. So sorry. But I have little choice but to make certain you get the message so I have elected to post to each one.

PPPPS. Man, sending out missives by the Ansharan Gate mail delivery system is bloody expensive. I do not know how you afford it.

Gentle Readers,

I find myself asking help from you for a change. I have at long last found a serious deficiency in my education. Yes, somewhat shocking for one who hopes to lay claim to the title of "the greatest scholar of his generation." Still, no man can know everything.

I am deeply in need of advanced lessons in etiquette. Certainly I already know of the power of the words “Please” and “Thank You.” In several languages! Yet even so I find I am increasingly unsure about how to respond to the unusual events in my life. For example if a very dirty gnome comes to the door of one’s establishment at an unreasonable hour must one hear him out? Or it is acceptable to slam the door immediately and go back to sleep? What if he is abusing valuable books?

Or wait, here is a better one. You talk to a bounty hunter. You have a paranoid dirty gnome that won’t wait till business hours to come pester you. Can this bounty hunter help you? He says yes, but then nothing happens. After failing to acquire said gnome he then comes back a month or two later and indirectly threatens to burn down your house and have the Inquisition flog you with a cat-o-nine tail. Do you just shoot him next time you see him? Or instead do you tell him what little you know about the gnome’s possible location?

I find myself in sore need of workable answers.

I of course turned immediately to my ever growing library to seek solutions. But my library is a little thin when it comes to books on etiquette. I only own six book on the topic and I wasted a full day consulting them. Sadly they are totally useless for these thorny issues. I have only learned that after Shadowfast it’s considered unfashionable to wear white. I assume the author of that little piece of advice sold poorly in Coryan. So I then went looking for what might be called a “naughty etiquette primer,” a book that dealt with things one would not necessarily discuss in polite company. With the resources of Litera Scripta Manet, that was child's play. But this new book fails me as well; its best "advice" is that it is broadly acceptable to seduce a senators’ wife in the Empire but that it very dangerous to seduce a knight’s wife in the Kingdom. But nothing on Bounty Hunters and Gnomes.

What do you think is the correct response?

When looking for an answer, do the specifics matter? Or have I stumbled upon immutable points of honor? Consider the following.

Should it be a factor that I have previously adventured with Arcturus the Bounty Hunter? And that we mutually survived both crawling through a veritable dungeon and the displeasure of a very tall elorii? Does it matter if I think the gnome might be investigating Gin Ho Caverns; and Arcturus might die if he goes there? The location is synonymous with danger here in the Blessed Lands. Does it matter that the gnome suspects a number of heretical and far fetched beliefs, such as that there may be a Chamber at Gin Ho Caverns left by the Celestial Giants that can somehow make you into a god? Perhaps more seriously, if there is even a small chance that this is true do I have an obligation to the Gods and Mother Church to stop him from tampering with it?

What if I do decide to shoot my former comrade? Is it acceptable to shoot him in the back from a convenient rooftop? Or after sharing drinks with him in a bar, do I have to do the honorable thing and let him see me coming with a double fistful of the Second Gift?

I ask you gentle reader, what is a sane person to do in this insane world?

Please do not think I wish to be a recluse. I fear you will think I live in an uncivilized world full of monsters and madmen. This is not the case! And it is always a pleasure to hear about the exploits of former Irregulars. And all my other boon companions that I’ve met over the years! If you'll permit the joke, the ties one forms while running for your life are powerful and colorful!

But there are rules of courtesy involved in all this interaction…even if I haven’t figure them all out yet. No more missives that suggest Litera Scripta Manet is in danger of burning down! Or floggings. With or without a cat-o-nine tails. Come visit! But during business hours. And if the word Ooze has become part of your name, take a bath first. Treat all books with the respect they deserve.

The dreams I have of a Beneficent world sometimes seem so far away. Even when I’m ensconced in my most comfortable chair with a good book. To think we might be working together to create a stable Parliament in Almeric or a plan to stop this coming "Destroyer." Or even just that Arcturus and I were drinking together amicably in the same establishment as comrades at arms.

I remain your obedient scribe.

Tukufu, Ambassador of Altheria

GOOD NEWS!

Ambassador, It is my great pleasure to announce that my employer's interest in you has been satiated. Admittedly you managed to achieve this end by a back handed and public manner. But the results of your information are no less useful. Now that they know what you know where Oozejumper is headed, the inquisition has lowered you on their threat matrix. You are now no more that a passing curiosity to them.

BETTER NEWS!

With Oozjumper headed to Gin Ho Cove he will most assuredly be paying you no further visits. To be safe, I would advise that you do not open any “letters or mysterious gifts” from the Gnome. His lot has been known to use such means to pass curses on to those they betray them. I suggest that should you develop any sort of rash or sudden illness that you visit a priest as soon as humanly possible.

BEST NEWS!

You saved my life! By warning me, however backwardly, of the Dangers of Gin Ho Cove the Larissan’s tell me that luck has changed for the better. Please kind sir, accept my apologies for my harshness in my last correspondence. I assure you it was the dagger pointed at my left kidney talking. Please let me buy you that drink next time we meet.

Now for the BAD NEWS!

By now the forces of the Sorcerer King have heard of Ooze Jumper’s research, and they are quite likely mustering their own foray to Gin Ho Cove. You see, the discovery of the Birthing Chambers of the Gods is the personal obsession of the Sorcerer King. Without it the SK cannot fulfill his immortal life’s wish of godhood. Fortunately the SK is banned from setting foot on Onaran soil. Thus the Birthing Chamber, if it is indeed in Gin Ho Cove, will have to be moved to Yamandragore. This gives us some time. To fully field a full expedition to Gin Ho Cove will require substantial time, money, and adventurers.

To that end, perhaps we should inform the readership of the legend of Gin Ho Cove. I’ll save that for another thread.

Acturis
Bounty Hunter