Of Grief and Glory

[archimedes 13]

Entry 16 - A Place of Rest

*an excerpt from Matyas' writings*

The day began innocently enough. There was a small group gathered by the Wayfarer, conversing and sharing stories. The sound of the south gates opening was missed by nearly all, but the sight of Zato of Ilmater limping into the well yard drew our attention and concern. He spoke of an unnatural fatigue, and after some time he began to relate his story. He had journeyed into the Sunken Cemetery and had been struck by an abomination that had weakened him with necromancy. I, as well as a few others, traveled with him to Shara’s in order to seek healing for the monk. By the time we had returned, a strong party had assembled to test the Cemetery grounds. It was led by Zato, the elf Isendyl, and the dwarf Karn. Two other elves joined us, Tren and Triell, as well as the hin Clover Glendoe. It is possible our company included another person or two, time dims my memory.

I do remember some trepidation on my part. I had not returned to those cursed grounds since my travels with Hana and Sarvonte, but my faith in Torm and my trust in my companions calmed me.

We journeyed south and made our preparations. Once we breeched the Cemetery, we were beset upon immediately by the undead. And they were stronger than my last encounter. We faced beasts such as wights and fog zombies. Some of the creatures seemed to spring up from the very graves at our feet to fight us. But things worsened greatly as our party became separated. Some of us were waylaid fighting the stronger abominations, while others pressed forward. The fog was thick and we were quickly separated.

I remember that, as soon as I could, I rushed to join the forward party. And that is when I saw him, the Lich that many had spoken of in hushed tones. He stood upon a ridge, barely discernible in the thick atmosphere. He was attacking Isendyl, but not physically. A giant green fist had clenched her, a spell the likes of which I have never seen. It crushed her, and left her a heap on the ground.

By this point our party was scattered. Karn rescued Isendyl and began a hasty retreat. The rest of us followed, harried on all sides by the abominations. It was only by the grace of Torm that more of us did not fall.

Looking back upon that day, I see that our expedition was doomed from the beginning. We did not work well together and our goals were murky at best. When delving into such a dangerous land as that, the group must be cohesive and willing to follow the commands of their leader.

Since that day I have not returned. I’ll admit that I am deeply vexed on how to proceed. The land is cursed and a blight to all that is good, but it is also controlled by a power that is not to be trifled with. Perhaps the time is ready for another voyage into those lands, but it must be with a company that understands its strengths…and its limitations.

Matyas DeLac

*somes space remains after the signature, below the ink is darker, as if added at a later date*

I have just a few thoughts about this day that I did not feel relevant to the Tome on the Cemetery that the Triad is constructing, so I shall add them here.

I was with the elf Isendyl until she had regained some of her awareness after her raise. She seemed to collect herself somewhat, and a few of us escorted her north from Vesper. Before she reached the gate she took leave from us and walked on her own. But prior to disappearing from our view I saw her make a transformation…into a hawk, I believe. It was a magnificent sight. I had oft wondered if she was a druid of the wilds, and am now certain of it. Perhaps this was her way of reconnecting with herself after having been rent from this plane. I do not know. But I do know that at some point I should hope to speak with her about her faith, about a number of things.

But ours are paths that are not likely to often cross.

[archimedes 13]

Entry 17 - Formation

Matyas stood in front of the forge, dressed in his working tunic. In his hand was the hammer he used to work the hot, malleable metal that lay before him, the metal that was slowly taking the shape of a war hammer. He paused and wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm, inadvertently streaking dark soot across his face and into his white hair. Then he continued his work.

How long had he been working on this hammer? He had mined the ore himself, accompanied by the dwarf Keldorn and a few other Dalesmen. And on his own he had refined the ore into iron he could use. He had begun his work officially as an apprentice in the Vesper Smithy, paying the guild fee for the opportunity to work in their halls. Now he worked in the Triad forge. From time to time Matthias, the master of the forge, would give him advice, but mostly the young paladin worked on his own. The mistakes he made, the successes and breakthroughs, they were of his own doing.

He enjoyed his time alone in the forge and thought of these moments as a synthesis between his two reasons for being in the Dale – service to Torm, and the promise to learn the trade of his family. Matyas had found many parallels between his callings, at the forge he shaped crude material into a form that could be put to use. Similarly, at times he had considered himself guide, if not a shaper, of men, protecting and rooting out evil in society. And both tasks required tireless devotion. At the forge he worked to hone his skills and in his journeys he strove to remain vigilant at all times.

Matyas focused his thoughts back upon the task before him. Over his countless hours of working, the metal had been taking shape. But his work before him was no longer formless. The war hammer was finished; it looked just like the weapons he remembered his father forging so many years ago. Matyas would have to wait until it cooled to make certain it had no hidden flaws, but this was a formality, he knew it was ready.

He smiled and stepped back, dropping his tired arms down to his side. He felt as if he had crested a steep hill, and he took a moment to enjoy his triumph. Soon many other concerns would press upon him, but here amidst the soot, heat, and clatter of the forge the young paladin found a sense of peace.

[archimedes 13]

Entry 18 - The Curse

*an excerpt from Matyas' writings*

Since the séance I have taken it upon myself to regularly cleanse the Crypts. When I can recruit other good men and women to join me, I do. But often it is a solitary patrol. Most people fear the undead, and for good reason. Furthermore, for the adventurers there is little gain. The abominations do not carry blades to sell or pouches of coin to take as bounty. But the task is a necessary one, and I’m confident the Brothers of the Triad would agree.

On this day that I am recounting, I had ventured into the Dale Crypts on my own. I made my way down the main hall, anointing the fallen skeletons with holy water. The spirits who have this crypt in their grasp had so far not made their presence known. I reached the eastern chamber, and with no warning an unholy fire appeared before me. It began at the cursed sarcophagus and approached me, pushing toward the entrance to the Crypts. At first I did not yield, though the fire lapped at my feet. Sweat began drip down my face, but I thought perhaps the flames would not affect me.

Immediately I was engulfed, the heat unbearable. I could feel it scorch my skin through my armor. I stepped back hastily, and with each step I retreated, the flames progressed. I called out to the two voices to make their presence known. I cried out to the young lady Addams. But the only response was the relentless flame pushing me ever backward.

I reached the surface, the flames following me, only stopping right behind the gate. Sparks leapt from behind the bars. I stood watching it, my thoughts roiling. I felt incredibly helpless and frustrated. I knew not where to turn, but on impulse I headed to Roanna’s tower. If I could not confront the spirits on that day, perhaps I would learn more about them.

I had never truly spoken more than a few words to Roanna before. I had stopped by her tower to check in numerous times, though I was certain she never had much need of my aid. But this day I found her animated, perhaps agitated. Her language was unclear; she seemed to speak in riddles. I wish I had written this sooner after my meeting with her, so that I might better recall her words. I do remember her speaking of time being circular, of it not having any sort of ending. And when I asked her specifically about the Crypts her response was not direct, but she did say, “I’ve already defeated Shalgrath once before.”

Perhaps it is dangerous to place too much weight on her words, but they do confirm prior thoughts and suspicions. We must seek to learn more, perhaps even from Morleas, the wizard in Vesper who is rumored to have been a student of Roanna.

Let us work with diligence brothers, for it is clear there is much at stake.

Matyas DeLac

[archimedes 13]

Interlude-

This concludes what I consider to be "chapter one" of Matyas' story. Shortly after this he took a leave of absence from Vesper Landing and Dragon Dale, which happened to coincide with my own absence late 2005/early 2006. The story of why he returned home and what he found is here: ...your fourfold Duties. I will resume writing those stories in that thread and I will continue posting his adventures that take place in The Vast here.

All stories posted hereafter take place upon Matyas' return from his hometown of Lidun.

[archimedes 13]

Entry 19 – The Northern Fortress

*an excerpt from Matyas’ writings*

This account relates the experience of a company I organized to explore the ruins of Algorah. We had hoped to learn more about this fort that is so shrouded in rumor and fear. Many had also surmised of a possible connection between Algorah and the Dale Crypts, though at this point I see little foundation for this speculation. Accompanying me were the cleric of Torm, Mathel Mennen; the paladins of Tyr, Rogar ap Culvexen and Artemis Mitchell; the cleric of Kelemvor, Mace; and the somewhat scattered paladin of Sune, Vincienzo Duncastle.

We spent the first day camping along the lake south of Algorah. Mace related his previous experience. He shared how at nightfall spirits rose from the earth and pressed his party. They had been unable to make it past the courtyard, and had to shatter the gate itself in order to flee. After his stories, we spent the night in prayer and quiet conversation, but by daybreak all were ready to advance north.

After walking for no more than an hour we were able to make out the wall of the fort up on a small hill, surrounded by a moat. The air itself seemed tinged with red and I could see an uneasiness settle over some of my companions. Still, we pressed forward and found the gate to be down. We approached the courtyard and found it littered with debris that seemed as if it had untouched for generations. Ahead were two long buildings, perhaps barracks or council halls, but each door seemed barricaded by a stone wall.

Behind these buildings was a small stone structure that had an unnatural blue light over a wooden door. It must have been an entrance to an underground portion of the fort, but again this door was unmovable. We explored the grounds thoroughly and perhaps began to relax. While the atmosphere was chilling, with an unnatural light and odd sounds echoing across the valley, nothing had come to oppose us.

I elected that we should stay the night, and we set up watch just outside of the courtyard. The conversation was strained as we watched the sun dip below the horizon. The red sky faded into the familiar dark and even the wind settled into stillness.

Hours passed in darkness, and none rested easy. Suddenly Artemis noticed some form moving across the courtyard. It was a spirit, and it moved toward us quickly, striking out with its ethereal touch. Everyone leapt into action and the spirit was quickly turned. Over the course of the night we were attacked perhaps two other times, but those battles were likewise over before they had even begun.

We passed the eve uneasily, but were not attacked by any other spirits or abominations. As dawn broke we marched quietly back to the Dale, in solid health, but with no questions answered.

I will say this - my company’s experience appears to be the exception. I do not know why we were left alone, but other groups have spoken of waves of undead, of gates that close and lock of their own accord, of unholy fires that surround the moat. I imagine I will return to this cursed fortress at some point, and perhaps I will learn more.

-Matyas DeLac

((takes place on January 21, 2006))

[archimedes 13]

Entry 20 – Reap

*an excerpt from Matyas’ writings*

This entry takes place shortly after my return to the Vesper Landing and Dragon Dale. Having been absent for so long, I felt compelled to return to my ongoing task – cleansing the Crypts of the abominations. Upon arriving at the cemetery, I encountered the elf Isendyl, as well as another elf, his name Scion, I believe. Scion was accompanied by a docile wolf that seemed to obey the elf’s commands. I was skeptical of allowing such a creature within the city confines, but decided that it was not the time to confront him.

As it was, our conversation was strained. I believe Isendyl was quite wary of me, but we did manage to discuss some of our concerns about the Crypts. As we conversed, I stood with my back to the Crypt gate, so I first realized something was wrong by the marked change in the elves’ expressions. Their attention shifted immediately. I spun around and saw the source of their distress. Behind us, walking north, was a dark warrior. He was a spirit of some sort, but he appeared to walk and was clad in a fighter’s garb. In his hand he carried a large scythe.

We quickly followed him north, fearing he would head into town. But we found no further trace of him. Doubling back we returned to the cemetery and decided to enter the Crypts. We proceeded down the long hallway and destroyed each abomination that we found. Scion was inexperienced in combat, but Isendyl had a remarkable prowess, and visceral hatred of the undead. I believe she could be a valuable ally, but I’m uncertain how to speak on her terms. I know she was close to Brother Zato, and perhaps it will simply take him returning to solve this.

Upon cleansing the rooms, the three of us and the wolf stood in the main hallway. We discussed the spirit that we had seen. And without warning, the spirit appeared behind us again. He struck the wolf with his scythe, killing it immediately. There was a dark energy in his attack - it was no ordinary blow. But before I could even raise my hammer, the spirit had disappeared.

Distraught, Scion took his companion in his arms. The crypt remained silent, and we went above ground to try to help his fallen wolf, but to no avail. And while Isendyl focused her efforts on trying to save the animal, I could tell she was troubled. She too must have sensed the power that this spirit wielded.

After this, we parted ways. Since then I have not seen the spirit with the scythe, though I have heard others speak of him. How he connects to our current concerns with the Crypt, I know not. But he and the power he seems to possess must be given due consideration.

Matyas DeLac

[archimedes 13]

Entry 21 – Gods

Dusk drew upon the south road. Matyas walked the dirt path, heading to Dragon Dale, after having spent the last few days in Vesper Landing. He approached the part of the road referred to as “The Drop”, though going north as he was; it was, in truth, a rise. He paused and looked about. Bandits could often be found in this area, preying upon the unsuspecting traveler. But tonight all seemed quiet.

The paladin began the quick ascent up the slope. He had scarcely crested the ridge before he heard a woman’s voice – she was chanting. He turned left and felt his body slammed by magical energy – the magical bolts that a bandit witch had sent his way.

Shaking off the attack, he rushed toward her, his war hammer at the ready. Matyas was clad in plate-mail, but his movement was hardly hindered, and he covered the ground quickly. The bandit witch quickly turned and dashed around a hill. Matyas made ready to pursue her, but another voice arrested him. He stepped backward to see who had approached.

Before him was a man in dark leathers. He snarled, “You flee like a rat!” With those words magical protections appeared around him, glittering in the darkening sky. Matyas realized he faced one of the bandit priests. He had never encountered one before, but had heard tales.

With no further thought he launched himself at the cleric, crying out, “Your foul magic will not save you!”

The priest engaged Matyas in melee combat, exchanging blows. He seemed possessed by a maddening glee as he howled curses at the silver-clad paladin.

The two battled for hours, breaking their attacks only to quaff a healing potion, or summon an enchantment from their patron. Blood, dirt, and sweat mixed freely, spattering their clothes and the earth about them. Neither gave any ground.

Matyas summoned all focus he could muster, ignoring the weakening of his body as it absorbed each blow. This cleric seemed to be an equal match and as the fight wore on, the verbal barbs ceased. The only noises were the men’s grunts and the sound of metal grating harshly upon metal. The paladin could tell that the cleric was weakening as well, but he made no sign of fleeing.

The battle slowed down, each man realizing they had an opportunity to land a strike that could potentially kill the other. Then, with a snarl, the bandit leapt forward. Matyas deflected the priest’s attack with his shield. In return he swiftly struck the man’s exposed flank and the cleric collapsed to the ground.

All was silent. The bandit lay still alongside the road. His golden shield glittered softly in the moonlight. Matyas sank down to his knees, the pain of his wounds setting in harshly. This had been a victory for Torm, a defeat to the dark god of the bandits. The paladin’s connection to this plane was tenuous, but he yet lived – and at this moment, he prayed.

[archimedes 13]

Entry 22 - In Good Company

*an excerpt from Matyas' journal, written after a patrol in the glades*

I’ve just returned from a patrol of the western glades. The men were all new to me, save for Corvus. He has been about these lands for some time, though I don’t believe I’ve ever engaged the enigmatic elf in a conversation for more than a few minutes. He prefers to keep to himself, and I can respect that.

As for the other men, they had all recently arrived to the Dale, perhaps all within the past week or so. As we marched, a number of thoughts crossed my mind about these men and about the Dale in general. I thought I should put my pen to paper before other concerns come to occupy me.

I have taken many a party on patrol, and the younger the party, the more brash their actions. This was different. These men were deliberate and cautious. The last to join our party was a fellow Braldegar, and he was perhaps the most boisterous, the most prone to seeing our actions as a game. But even he did not stray far. He fought with the group. I don’t believe the goblins managed to strike a single person. It was an impressive and hopeful sight.

The other members of the party conducted themselves with discipline. I had met Zordan a few nights ago. He has dark skin and a thick accent, and by his own admission has come from a far off land. He fought well with a spear (it reminded me of the bard Sarvonte).

Our bowman, alongside Corvus, was a man named Cale Dian. If anything he seemed a bit too hesitant to strike, almost waiting for an order before he would release his arrow. Perhaps he has militia training. Still, his aim was true, and I imagine he will become a confident marksman in time.

The final member was a swordsman, Darren Patsyn. I had met him with Zordan, though this was the first time I had seen Darren in combat. He too is quiet, and much as I imagine Corvus does, Darren seems to take in what is around him and mull it over, while so many others are prone to voice their every thought.

As I mentioned, I was impressed with this group’s restraint and skill. Still, the new faces, made me keenly aware of my companions who have passed. Of Hana Daler and Rogar, who were struck down in service to the towns. Of the elves Tren and Faelar, or the Crimson Company’s Mace, who have been about these lands less frequently. And of course, of Jach Kley, my brother in the Triad.

My thoughts drifted to these people and to others. But I settled on an important point just before I began writing – that the strength of these towns is the people who come and make their contribution, and then they move on. Eventually, new men and women step in to take their predecessors’ place.

That is our strength – our perpetual state of building.

And of course, it’s prudent to remember that sometimes those old faces return.

Matyas DeLac

((note - this was originally posted elsewhere, though it was always meant to be included in Matyas' story.))

[archimedes 13]

Entry 23 - Too Late

Walking through the north gate, Matyas is suddenly struck with unbidden visions of the Dale. He sees a young girl by Ralbon’s store. She is alone and crying. But then Matyas realizes it’s not just her, screams seem to fill the air. All around, the buildings are on fire, crumbling to the ground. People are fleeing. People are dying. And the paladin feels despair overwhelm him. He is too late.

Piercing these dire images is a hand on his shoulder, and then words, “Matyas, sir, are you okay?” The visions fade and Matyas realizes he is clutching his head. His traveling companion looks upon him with concern. “Are you okay?”

The paladin looks around. The townspeople mill about – someone laughs, another carries water from the well. Captain Sheera marches along the road. All is as it should be. Matyas turns to his companion and offers a slight nod. “Aye. Let us continue into town.”

But the visions of fire and death don’t disappear. They linger as he quietly makes his way along the dirt roads of the Dale.

((going through my old notes - have little snippets of stories that have completely vanished from memory and will thus be shuffled off into the ether - but this one was complete enough to post - and is still very important to Matyas))