Rise of the Runelords VA

Chronicles of Coram #19
Death Become Him

I think death follows me no matter where I go. Yes, I suppose that sentiment is maudlin, even for me. But it just seems so true. I'm tired of death all over the place, so much of it senseless.  It seems like the only way I can escape the pain these days is back in the bottom of a bottle.  But, I've come so far from the totally self-absorbed alcoholic I was to where I am now. It seems it would be an insult to those we've lost to go back to being that person again. It would just cheapen everything.

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Razan's Account, the Eleventh
Limping, but moving forward

I have lost one friend and reclaimed another. I am not sure how I feel today.

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Syphacia and Mallisun #12
Syphacia Returns Home

Alestra frowned at her daughter as she emerged from the back room of their cottage. She said dryly, “Syphacia dear, black is the color for a funeral.”

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From the Journal of Redgar Ironhand #24
Redgar Broods in Sandpoint

Another of us has fallen. Piotr is gone.

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Death
Aramil's troubled journal

I can’t believe it is possible to feel any worse than I do right now. First Jaben, then father, all in the same day! With Jaben there was nothing I could do to save him. He was already invisible which in almost all instances should have protected him. But that bastard giant stepped from behind a corner and vaporized my love with a disintigration ray. There is nothing that a cleric of Callistria with his limited power could have done to deflect such a ray from a mighty caster. He did not stand a chance.

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Requiat in Pace
Piotr returns to his roots

The moon lit up the cloud of dust on the Lost Coast Road, giving the small collection of horses an otherworldly air. A dozen riders galloped down the road to Sandpoint, six ahead and six behind an ornate ebon carriage. The torches at the north gate were guttering when they came through. When the carriage passed, they went out.

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Razan's Account, the Tenth
Of Cowards and Fools

The next room contained a golem and a cauldron, which sounds like the name of some tale of fancy from our childhood, doesn’t it? That and the monster of stone and flame in the wall would have made a fine story to keep wide-eyed would-be heroes awake in their beds at night. And – if I live long enough to marry – perhaps it may yet. Of course, such a tale will not likely end with my suggestion blinding Syphacia. I know little of arcane magic. It never even occurred to me that the cauldron could do such a thing, never mind that it would do so merely by looking into the acrid smoke. It was not the last time I sent her into danger that day. I would not feel so bad about it if I were her general. But, of course, we have no general. Foolishness. That lack will kill us yet.

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Sins of the Saviors
The Rabbit Hole goes Deeper

The Corporal led his three fellow watchmen through the tunnel that lay underneath Sandpoint. Baros had jumped at the statue of the furious lady but the rest of them had simply laughed at him. Now, though, their laughter had died away and dread seemed to close in on them from just beyond the edge of the light.

“Sir,” Baros murmured, “Shouldn’t we report ba…”

“Report what, Watchman?” the corporal snapped. We’ve found nothing that the adventurers who came here before hadn’t already told Sheriff Hemlock. Lord Ashton will be expecting a bit more than that." As if in response, they passed through a doorway and were surrounded by…words. Hundreds upon hundreds of words written on the walls and along the ceiling. They spiraled, grew, and shrank to fill in any open space. The spiky runic language was not one any of the watchmen recognized.

“Maybe we should go get Brodert…” Baros almost whispered.

“Maybe you should…” came a disembodied voice. “But first, you should tell me…what year is it?”

The guardsmen formed a tight circle, back to back. “What?” the corporal asked.

“It’s a simple question. But never mind, you’ll tell me soon enough…” Fog began to billow in all around them and they heard strange noises, like animals…no, like men making animal noises. Then they began to scream.

Then they stopped.

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Concerning the Situation at Hand: A Loss of Heart
-4708, Absalom Reckoning

    At this point, we've lost all credibility as 'good' people. I suppose each tale has its woes and sacrifices, but to have the deaths of twelve innocent men and women, and even more Dwarves beyond that, should stick to each of our respective consciences. It was our fault, undeniably. The fact that it was "unavoidable" is not exactly an excuse, nor does it make it alright, by any stretch of the imagination. Redgar is assembling funds for their resurrection… I can't quite bring myself to directly contribute. My Dear Lady Gray would frown upon such things. Their time was set, and despite the fact that it was not by her hand, their death should remain sacred and untouched.

    One of the highlights of all of this going on is the library. A fantastic collection of tomes and scrolls that must go down for miles into the Earth, managed by a small mechanical man. Would that I could drop all obligations and just sit and read for the remainder of my days. Not that that would help anything, least of all myself. Amongst the research that I am conducting for the party, I have my own information to seek out. For better or worse, we shall see just what awaits me over this next horizon.

    I have also taken the liberty of ordering a wand for curing these despicable bouts of blindness that people keep forcing on me in the midst of combat.

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From the Journal of Redgar Ironhand #23
Redgar Contemplates his Father's Death

My father is dead, and I am his killer. I traded his life for tactical advantage, like a pawn in a game of chess. The gambit paid off, and now Mokmurian is dead by my hand. I have buried my father next to my mother, beyond the gates of Janderhoff. All that remains for me is the pull of Torag’s will.

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