DitL: Fire and Blight in Maj'Eyal

[XLambda]

Alright, these seem to be en vogue again and I felt like writing something up. This is a little DitL for my current Dwarf Corruptor (both my favorite race and class, theme-wise). It's a good motivation for me to go slow on this char, I tend to go horribly fast and die to stupid stuff once I get them off ground. Also, I'm not a native speaker so there may be the occasional weird thing in my writing.

Anyway, let's start this off. I was too tired to actually play tonight, so prologue first. Ultra Dwarf Points for those who can correctly identify all the references.

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~ A diary, found in an abandoned library. ~


Prologue: Promise of Power

There are many things in our world that we do not understand. The library of the Iron Throne holds much forbidden lore, and in my youth I loved to study the weird texts our forefathers have handed down to us. But no pergament scroll or book bound in the skin of exotic animals ever told me of such things as I discovered the day our detachment was sent into the Deep Bellow.

You may ask, who am I? I am Sharsid, plaguemaster of the Iron Throne. Until recently, I served as an ordinary mage in the defense forces of the Empire. There had been disturbing reports of hostile creatures from the miners excavating beneath our city, and many of the superstitious workers claimed to have seen huge figures of blackness, which stalked nightmarishly through the caverns and stared horribly with empty eyesockets. The Deep Bellow has always been a place of ill rumour, ever since one of our expeditions was lost in its depths so long ago. And yet we have sought its dark treasures again and again, always hoping that we might eventually overcome whatever menace lurks down there. But we were never successful. And when no word came from the miners anymore, the Iron Council knew that the horrors of the Deep Bellow had taken them.

Our unit descended into the caverns to find what remained of the miners and their work. We found darker things instead. Horrible, mutilated things that might have once been dwarves... mighty slugs with human faces, leaving corrosive trails and dancing shadows... and monstrous flying things I refuse to describe. We felt a horrible tugging at our souls, as if something was trying to rip our life-force out of us. The worst, though, was the faint, deep bellow we thought we heard from the abyss. At times, it was as if something or someone was calling to us, inviting us to descend deep into the earth, deeper than dwarves had ever gone... Most of us did not listen to the noises, but I did. I strained my ears to hear what they might whisper to me when we rested beneath the misshapen subterrene fungi. I forced myself to feel the unholy aura surrounding the horrors we fought. I sang ancient songs in the long lost language of our distant ancestors as we wandered amidst the creeping shadows. When the leader of our team decided to return to the Iron Throne I guess I was relieved.

But the corruption of the Deep Bellow had given me much to think about. At times, I felt limited as a student of the arcane. Chained to the elements of Eyal and smaller trickeries, regurgitating the spells of old, never seeking for new mysteries. I remember well the day I first drained a living being of its life-force. It was a hapless warg who had wandered down from the peaks of Daikara. Oh, it was so easy to rip apart its soul and drink deeply from its energies. The grand mages of the Council were both fascinated and worried by my new-found knowledge. It was they who suggested to send me along with the expedition into Reknor, to help remove the orcs from the lower levels of the fortress. I gladly joined the band of soldiers and wizards, and many orcs fell to my power. But we had underestimated their numbers, and reports told that some of their leaders had achieved a disturbingly high mastery of the arcane forces.

And now, our team is gone. Only I and Norgan, a hardy berserker, remain. Right now we are resting in a more peaceful corner of the endless maze of tunnels that is Reknor. In the distance I can hear the orcs shouting in their ugly language. We will find our way back, even if I have to rip the life from these disgusting creatures with my bare hands. I feel the power of the Deep Bellow flowing in my veins. If they try to stop us, they will regret the day they attacked the Empire!

If I survive the next hours, I shall add an account of our battles to this diary. War drums in the distance. We must leave.

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[XLambda]

Wheee, first chapter. I really hope this char gets at least to Dreadfell. Anyway, comments and build tips are welcome.

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Chapter 1: Escape from Reknor

(LV1: +2MAG, +1CON, +Pac Hex, +Soul Rot, +Blood Spray)

The tunnels of Reknor were as confusing as ever. I had hoped to find some remnants of the dwarven army sent into the place, perhaps some equipment or even living warriors who might aid us. All we found were orcs. Primitive brutes, grunting and screaming and shambling. They deserved to die, every single one of them.

We fought our way through the masses of orcs. Norgan, slashing enemies with his mighty axe left and right, massacred the soldiers that tried to stop our progress. There were archers, too, but they didn't survive being splashed with corrupted blood. Their life-force had a strangely... porcine taste. It was repellent at first, but it provided enough nourishment to keep fighting.

Once, I saw a mighty orc warrior pummeling my badly injured comrade. I guess he would have died were it not for the bolt of noxious energy that seared the orc's flesh and soul. This spell seemed to be very powerful. I decided to train it further, to improve my mastery of this deadly art. Ah! So many wonderful new things to learn!

(LV2: +2MAG, +1CON, +Soul Rot, +Pac Hex)

As we were descending one of Reknor's many flights of stairs, we found ourselves in a small corridor apparently leading toward a chamber of some sort. I recognized the place instantly, and so did Norgan. This was the northernmost guard post of the Iron Council, and it seemed devoid of orcs. I thought of this as good news. Oh, how wrong I was.

(LV3: +2MAG, +1CON, +Drain, +Curse of Defenselessness)

As we proceeded toward our home, I noticed a strangely familiar aura in this place. It took me a moment to recognize, but it was clearly the taint of the Deep Bellow. And it grew stronger as the thing moved in on our position.

And then I beheld the thing, and wondered no more. It was a huge, hulking orc, equipped with chain mail and a terrifying axe. And yet, it was not one of the savage fighters we had encountered in the depths of Reknor. It held the same knowledge as I, and already I felt its arcane power tugging at my life-force. But it was no match for the power I had unlocked in my training. While Norgan flung himself madly at the thing, I began to mutter terrifying curses in the dead language of early dwarvenkind. I saw it stumble as the words of the Pacification Hex began to do their work. Its disease-bringing spells were powerful and nearly brought me to my knees, but eventually the combined force of steel and magic prevailed and the orc fell to the ground.

Its flesh still bubbling from the destructive, soul-searing power of my spells, I stepped over its corpse and calmly removed what I could carry. Two things especially excited my interest. One was its axe, a thing tainted by the magic forces we both had known. The other was a strange rod of voratun, clearly not the work of an orcish or dwarven smith. Apparently, it could be used to bend space itself, promising safe travel even from the deepest tunnels and highest mountains. If only one could unlock its powers!

(LV4: +2MAG, +1CON, +Blood Grasp, + Curse of Impotence)

Our return to the Iron Council was overshadowed by the bad news of Reknor's fall. At this time, there was no hope for the lost fortress, and to seal the old entrances and tunnels was all we could do. The elders of the Council seemed both uncomfortable with my new-found knowledge and strangely relieved when I laid out my plans to travel the world in search of ancient mysteries. But I did not tell them the whole truth.

I need more power. The Deep Bellow is a dangerous place, and if I want to descend into the darkness once more, I will need considerable power to overcome the corrupted horrors that populate it. The call... I can hear the call, even now as I am sitting in the library and filling this diary with my thoughts. I shall return, and claim the arcana that were promised to me. The west of Maj'Eyal holds many forgotten places where an adventurer might grow in power and knowledge, and I know where to find them. The old books in this library have shown me the way.

I am packing my bag, buying provisions for the journey. If everything goes right, I will soon add another chapter to this diary.

[XLambda]

Chapter 2: Norgos' Lair

It was early morning when I arrived in the Thaloren forest. It was a rather beautiful place, and the animals residing in the forest were easily drained of their life-force. I wondered whether the elves would mind my venturing into their realm - they hate mages, but then again, the rumours tell that even they consider this part of the forest a dubious place.

(LV5: +2MAG, +1CON, +Drain, +Blood Grasp)

There was nothing in the forest that could have been a danger to me. Not even the few undead skeletons, shambling hatefully beneath the snow-capped trees, posed any threat to me and my spells. And yet I was worried. There had been a small plant - a bush of some kind - that grew in a lonely corner of the forest. It seemed to disrupt and weaken my arcane powers, and the plant life around it seemed unnaturally large and wild. Whatever it was, I assume the Thaloren made it in the days they still controlled this place.

It appeared that I had not been the first to come here. An elven seer, giving her name as Aeroriwe, stumbled into my way babbling wildly of "the madness of the ages" and "Norgos' wrath". Apparently the foolish elves had lost the control over their animal servants. A great bear by the name of Norgos, guarding the forest from outsiders, had gone mad and was now rampaging through their realm. I guided the poor woman to her recall portal. As she left towards whatever place this portal led to, I realized she must have been a Shalore. The elves of the forest don't use recall portals.

Deeper in the forest, I encountered a halfling thief, Hathudrasta, who in his folly had wandered into the forest in search of treasures. The Thaloren must be really careless if they let these kinds of people into their lands. Again, I guided the hapless wanderer to his recall portal.

After the injured thief had fled the forest through the portal, I noticed a strange rumbling from the north. When I went to see what kind of beast might make such noises, I saw him. Norgos, the Guardian, slowly approached me and I saw the madness in his eyes just as the seer had told in her confused ramblings. He was huge and ancient, but still only an animal. My spells drained its health quickly, and healed the laughable injuries it inflicted on me. Covered in corrupted blood and plagued by soul rot, the old bear finally died.

(LV6: +1MAG, +2CON, +Blood Spray, +Burning Hex)

I found a weird shield in the pile of treasure it had amassed. It seemed to be made of coral. Nothing of importance to me, I'd rather use an arcane shield than any of these primitive protection devices. But still, I thought it might be useful, so I kept it. Surely, it was a rare thing.

I went up the mountain to look down on the surrounding lands. I shall travel farther west to the Derthfields, where many ancient places remain to be explored by adventurers.

[XLambda]

I dual-wield adverbs. Each of them does +20 blight damage. Just wait until I get Flurry.

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Chapter 3: The Trollmire

Once I read a book about the western lands of Maj'Eyal. It said that the halflings are afraid of the trolls, which live in the Trollmire east of the halfling town of Derth. Surely, the author must have exaggerated a lot. Of course, these trolls are nasty, but a trained warrior can easily defeat any of them. And my spells sufficed completely to rip them apart.

(LV7: +1MAG, +2CON, +Blood Grasp)

As I wandered relaxedly through the Trollmire, I noticed a weird clearing of some sort. A small building of stone stood in it, guarded by a skeleton mage. A particularly nasty type of undead. Having encountered one before, I knew how deadly their spells were. Yet mine were deadlier, and the skeletal form of this accursed spellcaster couldn't take a lot of damage. Inspecting the strange building, I found several infusions. Who would store them in such a place?

I had heard tales of a mighty troll deep in this swamp. According to the legends, the defeat of this being would both bring great wealth and great power. I think it is not hard to understand why I was annoyed when I stumbled upon yet another lost adventurer begging me for help, just as I reached the place where the thing supposedly dwelt. Surprisingly though, this one revealed herself to be an anorithil, a mage of light and darkness. I had never heard of these before, and was delighted to hear that she offered to teach me some of her protective light magic in return for safe travel to the recall portal. Did I not wander into the world to find mysteries and power? This light magic might be very useful in the future.

I found a giant troll, that claimed to be "Prox the Mighty". Not the legendary creature I was looking for, but good enough for me. Its powerful strikes did serious damage to me, but the life I drank from it repaired my wounds easily. Its death was only a matter of time. The troll looked horrifiedly at me as its flesh was melting off its bones, just before it died. Not so mighty after all, I guess.

(LV8: +2MAG, +1CON, +Blood Spray, +Empathic Hex, +Curse of Death)

In its pile of treasure I found a blue silken robe that felt horribly cold when I touched it. Clearly, it was a thing of arcane power, and even though my days of cold magic are long gone, I decided to wear it. The other object in the stupid troll's possession was a pair of voratun gauntlets. They seemed ancient, and I recoiled in horror as I realized what they were. Remnants of the time when the foolish simpletons rose up to destroy the mages they feared. The Spellhunt was long gone, but these gauntlets were not. I couldn't leave them here to be picked up by someone who might use them for their old purpose.

There was also a scrap of paper that told me the location of the ancient troll I had sought. Even deeper into the swamp I went, until I finally found a large glade, where mighty trolls stood. I saw that one of them was the legendary stone troll Bill, and resolved to kill them all and take their treasures. Bill was surely a tough enemy - his mighty rush attacks were quite effective, and the huge tree trunk he used was a powerful weapon. But just like Prox, every injury was quickly healed by his own life-force. This Blood Grasp spell is great.

(LV9: +2MAG, +1CON, +Blood Grasp, +Curse of Death)

He left behind his tree-trunk. I might be able to sell this thing to a muscly halfling fighter in Derth. And then I'll see where to go next. I must hurry, the sun is sinking and writing in this diary is getting increasingly hard.

[XLambda]

Chapter 4: The Derthfields

My visit to the halfling town of Derth was quite interesting. A rogue of some kind invited me to participate in an "arena" event. Of course, the competitors were mostly townsfolk, armed with simple weapons. My final opponent, though, was an arcane blade. Quite interesting, these warriors. They, too, feel free to experiment with the arcane powers they hold.

The townsfolk told me of a great tower that once stood amidst the fields of this region. They give its name as Kor'pul. Apparently, this was once the home of a great necromancer who terrorized the Derthfields with his undead minions. Now, though, he is gone, and the ruins are haunted by the remains of his armies. Some times, people would search for treasures in the old ruins. These people wouldn't return. I found this most interesting. The ancient art of Necromancy, widely feared by the simple folk, is a complex one indeed. Few are its practitioners, but their powers are considerable. And sometimes, a trace of their influence remains in their former places of activity.

As I entered the old ruins, I saw that the tales were true. Skeletal minions of old could be found everywhere in this place, and some of them had developed strange and unusual powers. Between the remains of minions and the ubiquitous rats that scurried all through this abandoned fortress, I found many treasures. Some had been picked up and worn by skeletons, apparently a faint echo of their former life. A particularly powerful skeleton mage dropped a fascinating belt. It shone with a bright light and seemed to strengthen my control over the unknown powers of the Deep Bellow. This was not an artefact known from history, but it was nevertheless a most useful object. I later noticed that someone had written "Gleamlord" on it in the letters of the old Mardrop civilization. Fascinating!

My descent into the tunnels below the crumbling pile of stones was a pleasant one. Here I was, a dweller below, finally reunited with the terrain that was my home. A human or halfling would never feel as comfortable below ground as a dwarf. Surely the previous visitors of this place had run off into the darkness when blasted by the mana-thrust of a skeleton mage, or ambushed by a rotting old skeleton warrior. I found notes of a certain Telthar, who called himself a sun paladin and claimed to have come from the lost east by some obscure arcane means. As I read one of his notes, I realized it ended abruptly. The writer was apparently interrupted by some sound he thought he heard, and did not return to finish or retrieve his jottings.

I must admit I was slightly worried as I opened the door to the room the sun paladin had described. This person was apparently not a weakling or simpleton, but a trained warrior. Whatever he had encountered, was probably still here. Would it pose a threat to a mage as powerful as me? The narrow, long room seemed to be a laboratory. I imagined a hooded figure raising a terrible scalpel over a still quivering body, chanting soul-petrifying spells with a raucous voice...

As I wandered through this eerie place, I saw something glowing darkly in the distance. I gasped as the thing shambled into the light of my lantern. A great skeleton, whose empty eye-sockets shone with a hateful light. It held in its skeletal claws a great staff, made of many bones. And its dead voice whispered powerful incantations. This was the old necromancer, himself an undead creature now. A terrible magical duel ensued, and his icy spells were of great power. I carefully extinguished the faint light of life that was left in his ancient bones and laid them to rest on the old operating table. Evil he might have been, but also a seeker for mysteries just like myself.

(LV10: +2MAG, +1CON, +Soul Rot, +Blood Grasp +Curse of Death, +Healing Light)

I took the staff for myself. Doubtlessly he had fashioned it himself, inspired by the many victims of his studies. It felt good to hold such a thing of power in my hands. Perhaps one day I, too, will learn the mysteries of life and death. For now, I have other things to care about.

My work in this part of Maj'Eyal is done, and I have decided to travel farther south, to the home of the Shaloren. They are known to be masters of the arcane, and I might learn something from them.