3. Isolde's detective files

Isolde's detective files


  • This page bears scattered notes, seemingly jotted down without a particular order or polish:

    "Sahuagin, sea elves and pspspspsting at giant sea monsters (strike Dreadfleet from below possible?)

    Temperance of Gulderhorn - if news of her death become public, would it change anything? My guess is that Geroldine would just demand her body instead, to parade around grotesquely. If news spreads, make sure it spreads with full and amplified disclosure of Siamorphe's intervention. People need hope and while I'm too spent to yet put this into song, it's fodder to inspire many. He'd really hate that she got one over on him even with her final breath, too. Also: make sure her friends know first, whatever else is decided.

    Grovelling at Ostromog's court for guerilla warfare in the Rawlins?

    Visit Moonreach while still an ally? The Moon might let us glimpse matters of importance to the Zhentarim conflict, but is it too big of an ask? Might need to go alone. Plan B: Silvia's pool in Deepwood.

    Is it time to start raising hell in Zhentarim holdings?"


  • "I'm too tired to gather my thoughts, yet here I find myself regardless, pouring them onto the page in some vain hope that the very process of writing will make the world sane again. I find myself tossing and turning between regret and resolve, sorrow and a rage running cold instead of hot, ever present past a heavy blanket of fatigue.

    Cerulean 3rs Star Reeving's name had already come up in previous speculations of a leak. I brushed it aside, because we had no tangible reason to suspect him. Besides, his teleportation at the end of the last mission had definitely saved our lives. Even so, I hesitated to confide Adrian's whispered message to the others in his presence, because that uneasy feeling lingered. It's strange, thinking back, that I had no qualms about the rest of it. Even Reeving's advice to spell up 'later' raised no alarm flags, because that had been his advice the previous time as well.

    This time, we landed straight in the proverbial witch's cauldron, a hail of arrows and spells raining down from above and a magic dampener at our feet, disabling any attempt to flee. It was a harrowing fight, but one we managed together as we so often do, even if by the skin of our teeth. The frantic scramble, the mad cackle of Flux and my very real terror of melting away in acid was still, for the most part, par for the course of wild geese in flight. Thankfully it appeared that my fly on the wall purposefully neglected to send reinforcements in time, though whether Geroldine will catch on to that fact or not is unclear. And, like Reeving, it could simply mean that we're allowed a small win to ensure we'll trust them next time around. Nothing in this game is a given.

    Aoth's call for immediate retreat went unheeded, as we scrambled out of immediate harm's way and stared up at the factory walls. I keep thinking back to that moment, hearing her words hang in the air, considering their merit all too briefly. If we'd Recalled then and there, countless lives might have been saved. Yet the acid factory is in ruins, Flux is slain and I must give Cormac some credit, insisting that this is a win, insisting I take it when all I could see was ruin.

    There were just 'so' many dead. A mere five of their elite task force took out all of City Hall in our absence, after Reeving dismantled the anchor to open a portal. Defenceless clerks and logistic officers, cut down without remorse. The injured and bedridden, slain in their cots, alongside the few guards and soldiers left on watch as Geroldine's three pronged attack had stretched our forces thin. The throne room, littered with bodies, shrouded in a haze of soot and acid from the vat left there to explode.

    The door down to the Defender barracks, where most of the injured and fleeing had gathered, was welded shut. The air felt thick with the residue of the magic that had been unleashed. But by the time we arrived there was only silence. Only stillness as I anxiously darted in and out of the Ethereal, hoping to catch a glimpse of events unfolding. It was chillingly evident that we were, once again, too late.

    Rey, George and Cormac pried the door off its hinges with collective might and a flood of warm, white and golden light spilled out. Something about it felt familiar. I saw Rey's shoulders drop as some of the tension seeped out of her, but I still couldn't shake the despair that had sunk its talons so deep into me. My feet felt like lead, forcibly moved from one step to the next, my eyes unwilling to focus on the scene that opened up downstairs.

    They were all dead. All of them, the light's serenity jarring in contrast, almost a mockery to the pools of blood and the empty eyes of the fallen. Despite the sick twist to my gut, the quietness of the room felt entirely different than the tainted haze of the throne room. This was the stillness you find at the aftermath of a divine occurrance, though it utterly failed to soothe me. Was Thaddeus the cause of it, his last heroic stand before he perished? He'd been moved down here, along with the rest in need of shelter.

    Yet as my eyes adjusted, I couldn't see him anywhere. Instead, surprisingly, three Zhentarim-clad bodies, slumped like broken dolls around a single cot. A spear had been brutally driven into the chest of the woman who lay upon it, painting a heart of deepest red against the white-golden radiance emanating from the body of Temperance of Gulderhorn. A half-finished letter on the floor beside her, edges soaked in blood.

    And sheltered behind her cot lay Isaac Thaddeus - still and pale, but breathing, miraculously untouched by blade or bow. Temperance's last words were meant for him. A form of confession, perhaps even an apology. For all her faults, Siamorphe's grace returned at the end, in the defence of a man important to not only us but clearly to Temperance herself. That he'd already forgiven her seemed only salt in her wounds when I told her. But in saving Thaddeus, I believe she salvaged all the rightful virtues of the godess she spent her lifetime serving. It feels a fitting end, though I still struggle to think of it as a 'win'.

    A survivor from the Zhentarim strike-team was found three steps into the General's office, wide-eyed and babbling inaudibly. The fifth, a bard, is still at large. Hiding somewhere in the city, it is believed. Better make sure the College isn't the where.

    Summing up, the Witch and Seer held fast, as did Cloudhaven. And though Porttown was abandoned, Adrian and his friends have managed to evacuate many of the citizenship, quite against Gom's orders. I'm thankful, though not thankful enough not to tease him about becoming a hero. Someday far from this day, when we can all look back at this from around a cozy fireplace, goblets in hand and safe within our deep, comfy armchairs.

    Right now, looking into the how and the why of Reeving's betrayal feels key. Reforging the naval plans is also a must, as he overheard far too much to risk the cavalry on icescapade. Though I wonder if he purposefully kept from selling Adrian's rescue mission out or merely deemed it less important? These types of questions, alongside a search for the errant dirgesinger, are all that my weary head can muster right now.

    The armies still on the march will wait for no one, but for today I'm spent. Am I any the wiser for writing? I don't know, but anything that keeps my thoughts from free-fall feels a comfort. Time to try that sleep thing again."


  • "It was mostly a joke when I told the cynical Far Scout that the reason D'Cameron was still alive was her heaving bosum. Turns out I was kind of right, though to no particular satisfaction given the haunted look on her face after rescue. Quartermaster Hive considered Norwick's long-term Herald his 'toy' and I for one cannot find it in me to regret that we sprang the rescue sooner rather than later. Hive's true puppeteer may yet elude us, but I wouldn't have wanted to leave D'Cameron exposed to that horrendous creature for one minute longer than necessary.

    We struck hard and fast, just as her cage was readied for transport off the Norwick docks. From under the cover of invisibility, Perom took the ship's mage out with a single shot fired from their own ballista and from then on, it was a chaotic scramble to stay alive and get D'Cameron out before their reinforcements arrived at the scene. Looking back, it was a matter of mere minutes, but thickly laden with dramatic near-deaths, surprising maneuvres such as mud wrestling and gnome flinging (he flung himself, I swear), as well as three consequitive dispersals of Hive's atrocious cloudy filling.

    We not only succeeded, but managed to wreak acidic hell on the hundreds of troupes that came pouring in from Norwick proper. Their own vats of acid used against them should feel like poetic justice, right? And I'll admit, in the moment it felt grimly satisfying, somewhere past the acute fear of being caught up in the same blast ourselves. But afterwards, in particular looking over my own words in the previous entry, I find myself reflecting on how Trusho's view on the world certainly has rhyme, reason and an insidious appeal, times like these. If those hundreds of men and women weren't 'real', it all be much easier to stomach, even enjoy. We're already treating them like they're all "The Zhentarim", faceless pieces of the enemy machine, despite knowing it's a lie. I guess it's a lie we need to tell ourselves in the face of conflict - in the face of a conflict I myself deemed necessary.

    I mustn't falter now. Even if I went to the rendez-vous with the would-be informant, even if I believe that taking the risk of trusting their word is worth it for the possibility to return peace to us sooner. It started with demands from their side, but at my reluctance the offer came regardless. This suggests truthfulness to me about certain officers being dissatisfied with Geroldine and at the accusations of his interests here being personal. I find myself wondering if even Bennek and the dragon were an excuse, or at least the lesser target, the threat he'd not have bothered following through on. If we'd put our foot down the first time, would it still have come to this? If it was all about Temperance, likely so.

    All the same, can I really trust my fly on the wall? The very word 'fly' has me cringing and thinking only of Hive, but the real rub is that it's the broker of our meeting that I'd have to trust. His judgement and untold negotiations beforehand is what lead to this encounter, and it's clear to me that my 'fly' had already made their mind up. I'll listen well, but when the time comes to act, what will we do?

    Thaddeus wouldn't want this sort of colluding with the enemy. Past my normal concerns of entrapments, I think that's what worries me the most. I feel as though his life hangs in some precarious balance, the strands of which I can not yet see, but my heart tells me to act in ways that would make him proud. That the right choices will somehow see his energy returned, but the longer this bedridden state continues, the more I worry. I worry over that inky patch of loathesome manipulation, slithering out of Cormac but off to who knows where. Into who knows who.

    I tell myself the Ringleader's too weak to continue to hurt us, but even so I recognized his voice and know his tricks. He'll seek out others who feel weak, who feel like they're drowning, and in "helping" he'll attempt to make puppets of them. Thalaman is wearing the crown though. Surely his confidence is the crown's effect, not that he made a foolish pact with that runaway patch of inky flesh?"


  • "War

    Now that it's here, I'm abruptly and viciously reminded of all the reasons I abhor it, including the cruel insight that struck my heart at the end of that first bitter day: those we fight are victims too. The real enemy is the systematic tyranny of the Zhentarim organization; it's ideology, practices and beliefs. ~That~ is easy to hate, but seeing fear and suffering in the eyes of the person you've struck down? No. That part is as unpalatable and painful to me as it ever was. Especially coupled with the realization that the individuals we face may have precious little choice in being cogs of that abominable machine.

    I tried not to look at that family portrait, blood-stained from Seven-Oh-Three's mortal wounds. His last words, that sudden plea cut short. I didn't want to hear it, didn't want to see him or any of them as human, but that isn't a lie I can tell myself for very long. As much as I need my anger to fuel my fighting spirit, I also need, absolutely need to remain myself. To succumb to hatred is a loss I'm not willing to cede to any foe. To feel it in the moment is one thing, but I write now to try and let it go. Even though Norwick's loss burns at the back of my mind, acid and bitter, robbing me of sleep.

    So much easier to be like Geroldine - to just not ~care~ who lives or dies, past their strategic value. Or like Trusho, to simply not believe anyone ~real~ but a handful few. If at times like these, I feel a pang of envy, I must remind myself that for all the rest of my days, I much prefer being me. So bear with it for now, Isolde.

    Bear with it, despite the red-veiled vision replaying in your mind's eye, hearing Seven-Oh-Three's choked sentence completed: 'Could you save my family?' When anger and adrenaline left me, as weariness washed over me and my eyes struggled to stay open, it came to me. And in an aching surge, I wanted to heed his words. I wanted to save them, improbable though it is. Even if I find them, why would they listen to me? I was not only part of killing their family, I've also just sent a freaking black dragon to rain acid and death right back at the Zhentarim holdings!

    Still.

    I'd like to think what we're doing here and now will at least save others from becoming like them. That our stand will inspire to resistance, maybe even from within their own ranks, if we succeed in such a way as to spread ripples of hope. Seen in this light, saving the few we can is more than worthwhile. It still stings that our choices then lead to the death of so many defectors from the Zhentarim side. But we can't turn back time, only work from the present and learn from the past.

    We best hit the ground running."


  • Isolde's files and indeed the detective agency itself, sees considerably less action as the Zhentarim threat begins to loom higher on the horizon. Instead, she spends the majority of her non-adventuring time at the Bardic College, composing and co-ordinating various efforts intended to boost city morale, together with whomever else of the bardic community who opts to partake. Songs, stories and rumours are spun, spread and repeated, themed around Peltarch's tenacity and history, emphasizing the city's longstanding tradition of repelling bullies, tyrants and slavers. King George's leadership through the demon siege features in one song, heroic deeds of former Defenders and Ceruleans in another, alongside various slants on Thalaman himself, painting the image of a King forged through hardship with the follies of youth left behind. "What's that great one about the Civil War?" chimes Isolde, bustling back and forth between the library and the lounge thoughout this buzzing hive of creativity.

    Finally, after returning from the Tuigan wastes with the rest of the Geese, she finds a quiet moment to write:

    "Scratch the dragons - without Karrick, the odds of swaying them seem slim and besides, the key to any good diversion is to find the right spot to poke. Temperance suggests the Zhentarim machine's free of weak links, but I think it's still worth a shot to stir trouble ~elsewhere~ than here. But we'd need intel and we'd need, ideally, an independant and capable operator of chaos. Silvia's pool is next, with any luck I'll find the right party there.

    Still worried about Thaddeus. I'd have thought he'd be up and about by now, but clearly it's not going to be as simple as that. I'm strongly reminded of Damien's illness, but this time I cannot see the fault lying in outside parties. No, though it pains me to think so, I think it's linked to the original speaking of Kordamant's secret - the one Thaddeus always so steadfastly believed in, despite Temperance's venomous and public condemnation.

    However much pain it wrought to people I love, I know the fault isn't Temperance's alone. Those who rely on the gods to answer, those who, like her, are raised to rock-hard belief and not ever to questioning, well can they really be expected to handle the unexpected and inexplicable in any other way? Kordamant's secret was a curveball thrown for reasons that made sense at the time, rippling ever since through lives and fates in unforseeable ways, including Temperance of Gulderhorn's. Including Isaac Thaddeus'."


  • "I once speculated along similar veins, but thus far there's nothing tangible to support or refute the notion. I checked a short while ago and the last report of Kasimir's whereabouts is rather dated. Wherever he is and whatever he's currently doing is as veiled from our sight as the secrets of Moonreach Keep itself.

    I worry that we're losing precious time with regards to Kasimir, and that our last intervention may have done more harm to his struggle than it did good.

    Currently, it seems unlikely to me that he's working with Caleb's entourage, though it does seem more than plausible that Moonreach itself could prove a powerful lure for his and the Endless' attentions. But with no new leads, it's little more than guesswork."


  • Another short note is added to the files, this one scrawled more hastily

    Dear Geese,

    You might recall I wondered at Caleb's reluctance in engaging our army being because he needs it for a grander purpose once he has control, as I know you wondered about him mentioning the Fisher name as rulers of the North, as though they once held all the Cold Lands.

    Have we any indication that Prince Kasimir has had dealings with Caleb or his entourage? The desire to rule all the North mirrors Zhengyi's ambitions well, the power behind Moonreach could easily spark the interest of the Endless, and the Witch King had his own ties to Thay.

    -George


  • Cerulean and Far Scout intelligence re: Zhentarim ruins and Moonreach Keep

    A search of the platform atop the ruined Zhentarim keep in the Dragonspines after our initial investigation yielded nothing of note besides some corpses and expired magical residue. The Cerulean Knights have run an analysis on the residue and deemed it was the lingering remnants of a Contingency Alarm, imbued with Permanence. The triggering condition being the presence of any member of a specific bloodline - clearly Sepret, as the assassin who appeared had eyes solely for Aoth. She spied Thayan tattoes upon his person, though details were hard to make out in the heavy rainfall and dark of night.

    The magical residue was found in the secret entrance we utilized, but there were three other entrances, each with active versions of the spell. In particulars, the spell must have been cast after the keep was ruined, a few months ago.

    The Cerulean report on Moonreach Keep came in four incredibly ordered parts:

    First, the fog. They've analyzed its properties. It is circle-magic, maintained by at least four mages capable of casting eighth level arcane magic, for at least 10 to 12 hours. The Ceruleans expect that they have more than eight mages total, considering that the fog is always up. Consequently, it is likely that they have the four mages on rotation. The fog's properties include anti-scrying, selective teleportation, and general magical dampening, to protect against magical spells or magical sieges. It does not contain physical barriers or shielding of any kind. It is, purely, a magical defense, against magic.

    Second, in terms of magical capabilities. The Ceruleans have detected other spells than the above being cast from within the fog, thanks to traces leaking past its anti-scrying. They have been casting, among other more minor spells: all forms of teleportation, including mass; all forms of scrying, including greater; various forms of magical messagery, including whispering wind and message, among others. They have likewise been casting the clerical spell "Commune" with notable frequency.

    Finally they have been casting various forms of druidic magic, including speak with animals, and control weather. From this the CK:s ascertained that they have a magical range between 5th and 9th level, in the arcane, clerical, and druidic fields, with their arcane so far being confirmed as their strongest or highest level. The others likely fall within the noted range. This concludes the report on their magical capability.

    Next is the history, gleaned from various legend lore spells. The legend lore concerning the Reach itself was riddled with inconsistencies. This happens when the recorded history doesn't necessarily match reality. Ceruleans could of course confirm the obvious, that Peltarch used the keep as a vanguard-fortress against the bandits in the previous century. After that, Peltarch held it for three years during the major bandit war. The war saw the keep take some damage, but it was the years of abandon after that - during the eras of planar warfare and demonic incursions - which caused its ruination.

    That covers the forward-looking history, from the point of Peltarch's previous control. Now for the backward. Here the inconsistencies begin. There are three notable stories, though our straight shooting CK cannot vouch for their accuracy.
    The first is the lighting of the beacon, some several centuries ago. The keep was under the control of an unknown cabal, and during this time, travellers could not approach without falling into a dream-like state. Within the state they would wander instead the rocky fields or snowlands, gazing at the sky. They reported visions of faraway sights, up past the moon or the stars. This story comes from Selunite records and calls the dreaming wanderers "moontouched," as in the ailment. The beacon being lit atop the tower is reportedly the cause of the ailment.

    The second involves a meteor shower that occured approximately in the same time, give or take 50 to 100 years. Astrologers documented the meteorfalls to have encircled a specific point of geography. That is to say, the Reach itself. Landing in specific patterns around the rocky fields, cliffsides, and the ocean. Even landings as far as miles away fell into a particular star pattern, with the Reach being at its dead center. Some accounts of this story report hundreds of minor meteors. Others report instead, five large, blazing stars falling to the ground, in a design or pattern, hundreds of miles away from the Keep, but still with it being the dead center.

    The third involves the Keep's control by a demonbinder warlord, again some several hundred years ago - more or less. The timelines are atrocious in the records.The demonbinder allegedly used the Reach's tower as a focal point for major planar and other supernatural bindings. The particulars on this one are scant as demonbinder records are typically sparse. Those are the sources from the legend lore - respectively from the Selunites, the Astrologists, and the Demonbinder records. This concludes the history report. (As for who built it in the first place, that remained unclear even with the spell.)

    That leaves the fourth report. The residuals. The only noteworthy remark in this report involves Bennek Sepret's counter-scrying against one of the Fivers. When the Ceruleans were attempting to pierce the veil of fog, one of the scry attempts was detected and countered. The counteror was the Princess Consort's cousin. The counter-scry involved a mental probe into the Fiver's mind. The Fiver reports having given up the current plans to conduct surveillance, but their assessment is that damage is minimal, considering that it is only to be expected that such an operation be conducted.


  • "Scattered thoughts, impressions and notions on moving forward, after meeting the Cleimant Council, Caleb Fisher and the dragon Villalgarviladral:

    The meeting spot, first off - a circular clearing between steep rock walls on either side, wreathed in fog. Whilst the clifftops lend themselves well to potential ambushes and the fog obscures any glimpses of the keep itself, the view of the night sky's by far what commanded my immediate attention, for at the clearing itself, the stars seemed particularily bright and near, though all around the fog and the cliffs obscured the view.

    The place brought to mind the place past the blue door, where once my hidden moon lit up the sky to reveal sights of significance in the still water of the pool. I saw no water here, true, but I can't shake the resemblance nor the Cleimants choice to meet at night. I thought I saw, just barely peeking past the cloudy haze, a glimpse of that same moon, wondering all over again why she ran in such fright and from whom. Or what.

    The fog 'also' brings to mind the haze that clung around the small isle where Cormac's sleeping giant lays hidden. It's no coincidence that Motley Grey, who sent him to that place at what I now believe was this same council's behest, was long obsessed with that creature and that Caleb, when asked to give up Lt Rixx, asked for Cormac to be brought to them in exchange.

    Coincidental is by no means the inky remnants of the Ringleader and his attempt to worm inside Cormac's head. Those same inky tendrils also sought the moon, and I can't help but wonder if the Cleimant council has since seized my white-gowned girl as an "asset". Ava Brokenblade smirked knowingly, gesturing to the sky as my gaze fell on her.

    Caleb Fisher sat at the very centre of the round clearing, with his mother Maude and Motley Grey flanking him at the back. Within good whispering range, no doubt. I've never seen Maude so seemingly quiet, but I doubt that made her a passive member of the meeting on a whole. Caleb - perhaps 16 or 17 years old - seemed earnest, serious and very determined, but also very well rehearsed. There's a practiced quality to the whole of the Cleimant's message, in fact, as if they're all using the same script. Which again veers my thoughts back to the runaway ink, though that's not the only possibility by far.

    He paused at intervals, looking down at his hands - a little scratch or rub all that betrayed any kind of nerves. Was he collecting his thoughts, was he instructed to give nothing away for free or was he simply listening to the whispered words of his elders? It's hard to say, but one thing does stand out. Caleb insisted that he 'had' to be King, for more reasons than one. The only one of those that he seemed willing to offer back was Thalaman's incompetence, which 'everyone' knew of. The demon attack on Willowhaven was referenced as something of a turning point, and I can certainly understand such an event triggering an ambition to protect those who Peltarch failed to protect. Though how he expects to do better is yet untold. I'd wager it has something to do with Moonreach itself, however.

    Bennek Sepret, then - who sat through the meeting glaring daggers at Aoth, not just angry but somehow accusing - seems the odd one out on the Council. His place there and his loyalty all appear to hinge on one thing, the one thing he says he truly wants - Aoth's blood and her name available to him, without the 'complications' of marriage. But why? Is the reason somehow connected to Villalgarviladral, the female blue dragon who seems so closely tied to Bennek? Her eyes every bit as cattily slanted as the sorceror's own. Their link may go beyond his rescue of her, to a tale I hope Legend Lore may reveal more of once we put that scale we found to good use.

    That, and cornering Danson on the subject of Cormac and his slumbering giant, are next on my immediate to-do list."


  • "After a good, long talk with Martha and H'Resh, it's apparant that while the latter seems set in his decision to retire, he and Martha both have kept quite close tabs on current affairs. Martha, it seems, was already fully aware of Caleb's existance. Despite the bitterness that tinges her voice when speaking of any of George's children, she pointed out that her husband held a great fondness for this one. We also learned that Motley Grey and Maude were indeed thick as thieves, even at the time of Caleb's conception.

    Towards Thalaman, Martha predictably shows not the slightest sign of thawing - besides her personal dislike, she clearly considers him a weak and unfit King, though whether that means she'll take action is another matter entirely. She presented us with her letter from the Cleiment council, which appears to contain a similar invitation to the rest. Bloodless transition of power, for the betterment of Peltarch, yada yada.

    We spoke briefly of Moonreach Keep itself, and Martha mentioned stories circulating about the place. It's said that it's haunted, that ghosts exists there and that the tower once reached not just the moon, but the very stars. So why indeed that particular base? Why rebuild it with (I can only assume) a great deal of effort, unless there is indeed a secret buried there that's worth the expenditure? It seems I must go browsing the library shelves once more..."


  • To-Do-List, re the Cleiment Council's challenge:

    Speak to Berlinne Toews - check! Though currently, our dear Berlinne's suffered the stings and arrows of outrageous slander by an elf's tongue (Leyanna Moonflower she calls herself - but Christina ensures that a Moonflower, she is not), Reyhenna's proposal towards the reconfiguration of the council bolstered her spirits considerably. Leyanna may be leading the current Republicans, all of whom seem disgruntled, but once it becomes apparant Berlinne can make real changes, I expect sheer naysaying will lose its appeal to most.

    Speak to Queen Martha Fisher - whilst Rey is no doubt correct in assuming Martha will hold no greater fondness of one bastard compared to another, the Cleimant Council's painted Caleb out as the true inheritor of all of King George's virtues. Will this, coupled with her known dislike of Thalaman, be enough to entice her to any sort of action? Apart from feeling her out on the subject, it's important too that we simply show her that we respect and care for her.

    The Silver Host and the matter of Temperance of Gulderhorn - while Rey may still disagree with me, I see no doubt whatsoever in that Thalaman must handle the Siamorphans with both grace and respect, offering a pardon. As Caleb Fisher is claimed to be favoured by the gods, Thalaman can ill afford to lose the Siamorphan church's backing, nor can we afford to alienate a potential ally.

    Research the history of Moonreach Keep - why that particular site, and is there any truth to the rumours of its links to the supernatural and occult? Did Ava Brokenblade simply try to lure me in with a well chosen bait, or is there something there that ties into other mysteries in play - such as my hidden moon?


  • "I spent a day or two in persuit of clues to former clerk Maude and her son's fate, after leaving Peltarch. Past ensuring their safety upon our last encounter, it would seem that the two, plus their appointed guard, had been staying in the small village of Willowhaven on the eastern fringes of Peltarch territory. That is to say, until demons rampaged the place in the wake of Miranda's gleeful machinations, burning down the inn, what passed for city hall and more. These parts remain in ruin, for I soon learned that after the demons came bandits, helping themselves to what little was left. They've done so repeatedly, too, and as Peltarch's offered a net sum of nil in assistance, sentiments towards 'the big city' are at an all time low.

    I took my time though, and managed to thaw the frosty surface of these hardened villagers by listening well and offering my sympathies. Eventually, an elderly seamstress told me that she knew Maude and her son - the latter described as a kind and wise boy, much doted upon. Not just by Maude herself, it turned out as our conversation wound on. No, from the get-go the small family had been receiving a particular guest, as often as once a month. A plucky female clerk, who brought young Caleb books from the city and a great deal of attention.

    "Ah, Ms Grey!" I exclaimed, as though she and Maude were always bosum buddies (which I'm actually starting to wonder if they were - they're both remarkably cheery after all). It was Motley Grey who insisted that Maude and Caleb leave Willowhaven, around the time of the demonic incursion, likely to Blackbridge though I've yet to sleuth out all the details. And we need perhaps look no further than her to find out how Bennek Sepret's been so remarkably well informed of local affairs."


  • "Ectomades reappeared some weeks back with information regarding the attack on his tower. He informed Reyhenna and I of two pertinent facts - one, his attacker matches not only the appearance of Kasimir Fisher, but also of the Prince's own personality, rather than the ice cold calculation of Ileph Thraun. Ectomades' impression was that of a young mage drunk on his own significant power, arrogant and it seems too 'impolite' (or potentially pressed for time) to get the knowledge he would have shared freely, had Kasimir humbled himself properly to aquire it.

    This knowledge was a spell of Ectomades' own creation, designed as a countermeasure for the eventuality of being possessed by a necromantic spirit. A very real risk in his occupation, said a clearly proud necromancer - but in Kasimir's attempt to take the knowledge he sought by force, Ectomades' recollection of it is too scrambled for him to share it with us. I don't believe Kasimir got all he needed either, but it would appear as though he and Thraun may be alternating control of the body both now inhabit - possibly in a tug of war, without one knowing the other's actions. It's also possible that they have struck a deal of some sort, agreeing to temporarily 'share' until such time as Kasimir can find another host for Thraun to take full possession of.

    It's the latter possibility, coupled with the news of King George's hidden son in Blackbridge going missing that has me wondering about a link between Bennek Seprets current scheme and Kasimir. It struck me as strange that a secret well kept for many years should be found out by a stranger to Narfell. It makes ~much~ more sense if the intel came from the spy prince of Peltarch.

    If Kasimir/Thraun is in play, is the original plan of Primeval Vivification back on the table? The boy snatched has royal blood in his veins, and might be used either to put a puppet king on the throne, as a would be vessel to Thraun or simply as a sacrifice. Either way, retrieving this boy strikes me as a priority. It might help if we knew what he looked like, but we may need to find his mother first."


  • "Fourth Star Cerulean Renno called us in, myself and Roslyn, alongside Perom, George and Rey, for an update on the ongoing investigation into Kasimir Fisher. The file herein copied file contains various reports, dated from the past two months, from various Far Scout expeditions and Cerulean Knight scryings from around and across the Sword Coast. Briefly put, beyond the alleged and uneventful sightings: he killed and looted a bard at a pub following a surprise attack, destroyed and looted a wizard's tower, and infiltrated and robbed a corpse from a crypt (the Ambershield family crypt).

    Most recently, as of just two hours ago, was a report of an ongoing attack at another wizard's tower. A necromancer, to be precise, going by the name Ectomades. Again in the sword coast, this time in the southern barrens of that region. A loner ex-Thayvian's hideaway. Despite our immediately voiced concerns, two Five Star Ceruleans had gone before us, supposedly to secure a room from which to operate. Given the trap of our last chase, I had misgivings which proved all too accurate when we teleported in. The Ceruleans lay dead, the many protective spells they'd arranged for to safeguard the room dispelled, and around us, the tower was abuzz with arcana. Things were clearly happening quickly and we'd landed smack in the middle of this hornet's nest, with not so much as time to secure the corpses of those who had gone before us. The CK:s were lying in pools of blood, their bodies burnt.

    Soon thereafter, we were jumped by a shadowy creature, clearly ~not~ the bane of our two Ceruleans. No, these and several others we were soon to run across had been purposefully placed in our path. We were most definitely expected, the one bright point being that the battle still raged somewhere above us. Kasimir was still here, of that I felt quite certain. But we were being stalled and knowing it did little to change the fact that fight his monsters, we must.

    However, thanks to Roslyn's sharp eyes, we managed to spy and catch a peculiar rodent creature, who was revealed as Ectomades' familiar. It knew a shortcut up to its master's chambers, where the main showdown was happening. Needless to say we jumped on the chance to win precious time, promising the creature we'd help Ectomades. The rodent lead us up a secret path of stairs. Peering through the windows of the passage, we spied the other rooms thus circumvented, piled high with the corpses of former undead, defeated by the Endless ones brought by the attacker. The higher we climbed, the more active these skirmishes became, with combat raging just past the wall - yet in our secret tunnel, we slipped easily past and onto the pinnacle of the tower.

    The pinnacle itself was under siege from the defending forces, trying to rally behind their master. Those forces were also coming in through the various secret passages all around us, but Kasimir Fisher had erected a barrier, and the undead could not get through. Before our very eyes, past this inpenetrable barrier, a wizard battle played out in which the tower leader was losing - he was fending off a series of negative energy blasts from Kasimir, who appeared to be attempting to siphon something off from the wizard.

    Roslyn spotted the barrier's focal point - a locus of magic near the center of the room. Knowing the caster's skill, I was not surprised at failing to dispel the barrier itself, but I 'did' manage to tear open a minor hole in the barrier - about the size of four or five fists. It wasn't big, and rapidly closing, but it was enough for Rey to heft her blunderbuss and set off a sickly acid blast aimed squarely for Kasimir - disrupting his concentration.

    'KASIMIR!', I cried, hoping the prince's own resiliant spirit would seize the opportunity and fight back. Meanwhile Ectomades, released from his subdued state, blasts back with a flurry of fireballs. For a moment - for but a brief moment, Kasmir looked back past his hooded visage. Before I lost sight of him amidst acid fumes, flame and smoke, I saw something wild in his eyes, past the slits of the mask. Was it hope or fear? Perhaps both, and perhaps Thraun knew full well that a battle of wills would follow, for as the smoke filled the area he vanished, opting out of the fight instead of burning us all in blue flame.

    George cunningly summoned an elemental though the shrinking tear in the barrier and had it topple the locus of the barrier. As the dust slowly settled, I caught the faint traces of teleportation amidst the thick miasma of arcana filling the air. He had escaped once more, but I will take some small comfort in confirming that Thraun's control of Kasimir Fisher is far from complete. As for Ectomades, the wizard's gratefulness for the rescue was considerably dampened by Rey's rough-handedness, yet he has agreed to repay us in some way or another. Information is our favoured currency, and the hope now lies to finding a more discernible pattern to the attacks, in order to beat our quarry to the punch and be first on scene, at the next location."


  • "I agree with George's assessment that the Order of the Endless is after something bigger - though I absolutely shudder to think the big 'O' is that. For now, I we can't confirm or deny it though and should keep it on the options list. The Witch King seems a stronger link and if we can just claw the time together, revisiting the ruins of Castle Perilous might yield something. Did Kasimir take anything from there. Bones, even, to link to the following tomb robbings somehow?

    With regards to Temperance, I think she's mad only in the sense that she's questioning her whole outlook, her understanding of the world, of faith, of the gods. Mad, in the sense that some consider the likes of Surin Trusho to be, with his dismissal of the standard conception of reality being 'real'. Of course she'd struggle now, given how she lived so firmly in one set of beliefs, now yanked from under her. What is real and what isn't is both debatable and malleable, as anyone who's dealt with the Sign of One knows. However, it's not for every mind to accept quite so readily, least of all the sort to be drawn to holy order and crusading.

    I was recently warned that MBH is messing with our narrative. This meddling, at least in terms of direct involvement, began shortly after our return from the desolace. For now he just wants our views. The bigger his audience, the more glamorous he becomes. And the closer to his goal he gets.

    He is what Sigilite priests would call a 'lessor power.' Something which would really upset him, if he heard it. But it is true, all the same. He exerts considerable influence through a combination of his will, his observation, and his audience. The attention he is able to gather is what enables him to proceed as such. In truth he despises religions, particularly those of the Prime Material Realm. Believes them false, or at least, no truer than the performances put on the Red Kermis network. In fact, my informant believes he harbours a deep resentment towards the gods.

    I'm certain, by now, that the meddling goes beyond simple moodlights and background music - I was recently visited by Barton Cade, who seemed more than a little perplexed when I questioned why he'd go to such effort to bring me a classified report from the Cowled Wizards regarding an altercation between them and Kasimir in Amn. And when I opened the folder, the pages at first appeared blank. I heard a faint 'scratching' sound, before the pages filled with information that appeared to fit what Cade had already read. A real-time edit, potentially.

    The report describes an encounter against Kasimir Fisher. It lists off various spells cast, including necromancy and breeches, and describes the nature of the spell duel between him and the three Cowled Wizards who attempted to ambush him. The target was the remains of a member of house Lanegriv. Some minor noble family -alleged- to be royal-blooded.

    The last page holds the key passage: "During the encounter, there was but one moment of weakness, which we should have capitalized. During the barrage of spells, he paused, clutched his head, and began to scream. At that juncture we attempted to apprehend him, but we were too stunned by the change of tactics to be swift enough. Following that, he leveled an empowered horrid wilting, and decimated our agents. He then dispelled the scrying orb."

    This suggests my firmly held belief to be correct - that Kasimir's spirit 'is' still fighting, and that if we weaken the lich enough, there'll come a moment when he has a chance to break free. We just have to help give him that chance."


  • A singular page follows in the dossier. A different handwriting from the usually elaborate and whimsical hand, on a different type of paper altogether.

    My dear Geese. I will keep this brief.

    I assume I am not the only one who wondered about a possible connection between the Siamorphans and the Brotherhood of the Endless.
    The Endless attempting to retrieve the remains of royalty or assaulting them across Faerûn must at the very least have earned them the ire of their church. A worse scenario, and one I assume is happening, is that the Endless may well be leeching off Siamorphan efforts. Using them to trace various lineages and the location of tombs and remains, and possibly joining their number to gain access to the living.

    I have no definitive proof of that last, so I had decided to visit the Lady Temperance in holding, Isolde being so kind as to accompany me.
    The Siamorphans are convinced she has gone mad. Whether that is true is debatable. I believe she is merely wounded deeply over having fallen from grace, and her "madness" will heal after she has raged out and pitied herself long enough. Her having gone mad would be convenient for the Siamorphans, of course. It would hurt the church less if she was out of her mind rather than if she were a heretic, or gods forbid, merely mistaken.

    She was not inclined to talk straight. Word games for her own amusement, and bemoaning that she had not been worthy of a visit until a new enemy had decided to show itself. Taking a stab at my presumption that she knew which enemy I was coming to question her about. Smiles and laughter, mocking the zealotry of the Silver Chalice. Laughing at her predicament, that her trial before Siamorphe be hosted by the King she sought to safeguard, in his city that has Silver Host troops prisoner. She deems herself a token sacrifice, a trade to see their troops released. She was disappointed I did not appreciate the humour in it.
    She was bemused by Isolde's insistence on needing to save the Prince. Wondering out loud if any of this was even real.

    All understandable, given her severed connection, but frustrating. If any of you intend to talk to her, be prepared to deal with that.

    The only straightforward answer was the following.
    The Lady Temperance has faced a demi lich that raided House Hawkwinter. It claimed a lord of theirs that is rumoured to have had royal blood, in the labyrinth of crypts beneath the city of Waterdeep. So they know of the Endless, at least.

    I wanted to ask if she ever got the sense if the Endless were prodding the Silver Host one way or another, but time ran out.

    I remain curious if the Lady Temperance's inability to see the truth of Rey was somehow influenced by the Endless, another question left unanswered.

    The last I got out of her was a cryptic statement, which she seemed quite amused again to deliver.
    "What's died twice already, in life and unlife, that they might want to bring back, oh my dear Longcloak?"
    "It's not just themselves they believe truly immortal."
    She said it would be no fun if she told me outright, and didn't seem too worried about my not learning in time, as it was only a hunch.

    That might have been about Illiph Thraun, but I doubt it. She knows we are aware of him.
    Given that they are targeting royals and pilfering remains all over the continent, even going through the pains of attempting to raid the tombs of Obarskyrs, which may well be the strongest royal line on Faerûn, they must be reviving something quite a bit more powerful.
    All of what is happening is based on Zhengyian Blood Magic. We also saw the name clearly mentioned in the memory gem viewing. What I believe the Lady Temperance was hinting at is that they will stop at nothing less than reviving the Witch King of Vaasa and his rule.

    This alone would be bad enough, this powerful lich having conquered Vaasa and later Damara during its existence.
    What worries me more, however, is that he was a faithful of Orcus. Also a power that has died both in life and unlife, over the millennia. If any of you can confirm that Orcus is cozy in Thanatos as opposed to floating in the Astral, that'd be swell.

    George


  • "The Brotherhood of the Endless, it seems, consists of an unknown number of liches and necromancers of various ilk. The Red Kermis, who after years of waiting (and apparantly spying) on us, has decided to collect upon the debt owed for the inch-to-the-left correction, describes the Brotherhood as a cult dedicated to the revival of previously destroyed entities of their own kind. They're also, as the Beholder's library suggested, obsessed with royal bloodlines, perhaps for tapping into the supposed power in such lineage, perhaps just to 'start off' powerful in the revived's new skin.

    The Cerulean knights recently picked up Kasimir's teleportation signal and sent our party to prompt investigation, due north, where our path was immediately hindered by a dracolich and her many undead minions. She taunted us, saying Kasimir was already but a husk, just flesh worn by Thraun, and that he'd already left after having claimed what he came there for - the remains from a royal tomb belonging to the Obarskyr family. As we'd recently watched a showdown broadcast between Elminster and an undead illithid necromancer of the same Brotherhood, this struck a note of truthfulness. The objective there was likewise the remains of some king or other.

    However, just as we prepared to retreat, the dracolich struck all the same. In the subsequent storming of her tower of bones and ice, we learned she was part of the 'Brotherhood' too, and the likelihood of the whole thing being a trap increased. This is not to say she can't have spoken truth, though as Kasimir's quite able to cloak his teleportations, I daresay trap first and foremost. Still, I wouldn't discount the other possibility here, which is that the Red Kermis manipulated matters in order to make for a 'show'. By that I mean potentially enhancing the teleportation signal to enable the Ceruleans to catch on, and possibly stirring the dracolich into action at the right time, before we could make our retreat.

    Within the dracolich's winding tower, we found a library stocked with much the same manner of books as the undead Beholder's. After a breath-sucking fight with the void spirit librarian, we were browsing the shelves as the next undead walked in - a strangely timid ghoul, calling itself Limey. Easily cowed, thoroughly unthreatening but clearly sentient beyond the norm, Limey claimed to be something of an entertainer to his Master. Song, dance, some very pityful punnery - but upon prompting we found he also had close knowledge of the tower and even the Master's phylactory. Having learned these pertinent details, my party then saw it fit to strike him down. That was all too easy.

    A few doors down, we found a portal leading up, and next to that, what appeared to be Limey's personal chambers. It was a rather luxurious room, at least by comparison to the rest of the tower. A big bed, a spacious closet for a range of ragged jester's clothes, and a small desk with a book of horrible puns. A bottle stood next to that, engraved with red runes. I thought it some manner of peculiar ink at first, til the contents 'blinked' at me. And then spoke, in Limey's voice.

    Having pitied the creature even before, I was of a mind to sneak the bottle into my pack lest it be destroyed, but Limey hadn't quite the cunning to go quietly. I suppose being in a bottle will do that to you, ones senses being somewhat limited. But he's also oddly trusting and guileless. At any rate, it began to become clear that the ghoul did indeed have a special place in his Master's eye. Favoured wasn't the whole of it though, we learned in quizzing on. He was an experiment in the same or similar vein of revivification magic the Brotherhood favoured - the first successful such, in fact, still studied by the cult's members. Obviously everything hadn't gone smoothly, as Limey couldn't recall who he'd once been and had none of his presumed former power, but there had to be a reason why they kept him around, I argued, and in the name of tradition, bagged the bottle.

    We seized the opportunity to rest, but soon thereafter the door was knocked down by a sinister undead in heavy armour and his minions at that. Clearly this was the dracolich's right hand man, a powerful being who hit like a barrel full of bricks, through even my Ethereal Visage. We had a rough time of it, til we tried fire. 'Burn, o flame' freaked him out in particular, the flames momentarily stunning the creature and towards the end, sent him into something of a panic.

    'Flee Master, they're not human!' the death knight cried, then gurgled his last, wheezy unbreath.

    But of course she did not. The dracolich awaited at the top of the tower, and that is a fight I remember but vaguely for her sharp strikes sending icy paralyzation through me at numerous times. I recall, as through a daze, her angry demands for Limey's return. Whether based in professional need or prideful sentiment, I couldn't tell, but it cemented my resolve to keep the bottle intact and at the very least properly studied before any act of destruction.

    Somehow, we won. Flames licked the fallen bones, but in the vast throne room we were in, there was no sign of anything like Limey's description of the phylactory. A 'ribcage' holding a frostgem. The dracolich would not be still for long, and despite being ragged already, we did the one thing we could do and ran. My last Mass Haste sped our steps as we stumbled down the stairs, scattering in search and finally reconvening at the basement level where finally, we found it. Time was running out, I could feel the tower's magic surging around me, coming to 'life' more and more as its master began to stir.

    But what would destroy a heavily enchanted phylactory? Rey's mightiest swing did nothing, my Dispel simply fizzled but fire - hadn't fire always served us right in this frozen place of dank undeath? George found the means and the flames began at once to eat away at the crystal heart of the phylactory. As it crumbled, a multitude of voices shrieked and burst free in a cascade of blinding lights - the female mage's one rising over the rest, the dracolich's own, repeating that Kasimir was already lost to us.

    But I don't believe it. He left us the crystal breadcrumbs for a reason - a part of him was always fighting back, that seems obvious now, and I'd wager the clever boy found a way to hide, to shield his innermost essence. Waiting for us to save him."


  • "Thalaman's awake and well, thanks to the combined efforts of ourselves (Aoth, me, Mortis and Reyhenna), Berlinne Toews and other Ceruleans on site, but first and foremost Isaac Thaddeus, whose restored grace shone so brightly that it made my heart ache. He was nervous, at first, but I was certain he could do it, if we just kept the ritual on track and free from intervention or disruption.

    While the possessed Kasimir stayed out of it, the magic woven into the curse had several intricate layers, set to trigger at tampering with the enchantment. We knew only of the first one, but peeled the contingencies off with as delicate a hand as we could, Aoth and I. But when the third one surfaced, there was little anyone could do - we simply shouted to Berlinne to finish it for us as the Baleful Teleportation hit, whisking us away deep underground to a cavern reeking with necromanctic energies.

    Our delightful host and would-be assassin was an undead Beholder, its main eyesocket eerily hollow. As luck would have it, for our part, the party had grown to include Cormac and George at this point, adding numbers as well as brawn to our flock. The trap was specifically set to catch our group, as it happened, and clearly the Beholder was a pawn or collegue of sorts to Thraun.

    After the dust settled (it was quite a fight, with not just the main eyeball but all of its minions), we searched the place and found a library. Unfortunately the beholder's spiteful Hellball ending saw many of the books and scrolls in a state of ruin, but a sign in Undercommon hung on the wall, still ledgible. 'Brotherhood of the Endless', I believe it said. We'll look further into this, for perhaps this dark society is where the disciples of Zhengyi gather. Within the library, we found not only the expected necromantic content, but a considerable range of books on royalty, both Underdark and topside ones. Even one of the Gulderhorn family, which I recovered and left in Thaddeus' care.

    It took us some two days of trekking to leave the vastness of the Underdark behind, arriving at Ghaunttown with the unexpected company of an Incubus whom no one seemed inclined to pick the extra fight with at the time. He too had a different target, some mage woman whose name eludes me at this time, as it didn't ring a bell.

    Once we stepped off the ship in the Oscuran docks, a loud argument echoed across to us. Defenders, insisting to the Icelace raiders present that they had orders to search for missing persons. Orders from the highest authority. My heart buoyed - it must've worked, Thalaman himself sent them!

    And indeed, when we came to Peltarch, the city was in a festive mood, the likes of which I've not seen in a long time. We were met not with boos and jeers, but the exact opposite. Being hailed as a hero felt uncomfortable to some - has it truly been that long since we felt cheered on by the public last?

    Thalaman, finally. The young King was up and eager to meet us, Reyhenna in particular. He had been swift to issue two orders: to search for us far and wide, first, and secondly to rectify the wrong he admitted to having made in casting her aside. A far cry from the boastful young peacock king who listened to none, he humbled himself before us and said he knew, even when he made the decree, that it was wrong. But he was too afraid to go against the Siamorphe clergy and the expectancies of the city as a whole.

    That realization is a good start, and he has vowed that he will try to become the sort of king who can comfortably wear the crown of Peltarch. I believe he's earnest, and that his promise to attend Arch Weylands military funeral will go some way towards healing old hurts left unattended. As for Kasimir, he wants to rescue his brother, but entrusts the how to us. I have asked him to record a message to his brother in a spell crystal. I believe it may come in handy in bolstering Kasimir's spirit, for if he isn't willing to fight the lich too, we'll have a much harder time of it."


  • "Barton Cade's escaped his cell at the Witch and Seer, curtesy of the disgruntled Motley Grey. His note designated us adversaries once more, though in a convivial tone. I expect he's been hired by whoever Motley Grey's working for, and while we may clash again, he expects it will be a good while til that happens.

    I find I can't be much irate - rather I'm in a way looking forwards to another game of cat and mouse with Cade. Perhaps oddly, I'm not that upset with Motley Grey either, but rather the irksome factor of all this was that I once again, after three nights in a row of trying, missed my window of opportunity to meet with Horgrim.

    If events start moving at a pace when Thalaman's restoration ritual takes place, I fear we're not well prepared. Still, don't we end up winging most things anyway?"


  • "Temperance of Gulderhorn and her host of Siamorphans have arrived, setting up camp for now at the Bluff (where the Legion grudgingly allows them to, perhaps having little actual choice in the matter). While there's decidedly still friction and no love lost between their side and ours, the cause has been deemed just and Temperance has agreed to assist, as surely she is duty bound to do. What she'll ask in return, of Thalaman once he comes to, remains to be seen.

    On the subject of Kasimir, on the other hand, I feared the Siamorphan host planned a veritable smite fest, but his noble blood seems to prevent persecution and instead, they seem inclined towards rescue just as we are. But countering the potent and dangerous spellcasting abilities of a possessed prince is easier said than done. A few ideas so far:

    Counterspelling (if Salin's there, Aoth, Jonni and I are likely not fast and practiced enough at that art)

    Spell deflection - remembering his mother Maurina's long ago trick to do away with her opposition through that means, we might do well to seek a way to replicate it - though, we also don't want Kasimir to burn in spellfire (as the lich once did). Perhaps a bluff would be the best way?

    Spelleating - while discussing the above, Horgrim's pet spelleater came suddenly to mind. While it may be that Elvadriel's taken the little tyke off on her adventures, it's equally possible that she left it with Horgrim. Make sure to ask, because if spellfire can be consumed, we might buy precious time to try and subdue Kasimir.

    To drive the lich out, however, we need to understand first what type of possession we're dealing with. To do that, we may have to read the book. It being left behind nags me though, and the possibility of anyone reading it being likewise affected seems high. 'Zhengyian Blood Magic' is a tome which confirms that the teleportation choice of Castle Perilous was no mere fluke, and so a further investigation of that site might be necessary after all.

    -Analyze book's dweomer prior to closer study of its contents (Horgrim/Jonni/Salin)

    -Field trip to Castle Perilous (all available Geese)"