My name is Reneel, son of Keilrand, King of Mythgar. Yes, my dad is a king, but don’t worry about me looking down my nose. I have six brother and sisters, all older than me. The odds of me ever having the throne are remote, and I’m okay with that. I would be content to be the Monarch’s Spear, and lead his or her armies into battle. Someday, I might be a pretty good fighter. Father says that a leader has to keep his head about him and let the soldiers do most of the fighting, but first he has to gain the troops’ respect. That means being able to do any job that you order them to do, and proving it now and then.

But enough about me. I am, by far, the least interesting of all of the people I am questing with. I am writing this because my friend Nikko is not feeling well and can’t find the will to continue his journal. But the journal is more than just his reflections on what is happening in his life. It is also the chronical of this quest, and a way to make sense of all of the brutality and loss that we must live through to fulfill the prophesy. Nikko is a big believer in the prophesy, though lately he is reluctant to discuss it.

I have never really written anything before save reports for my tutors, and that was just a matter of putting down names and dates and places in the correct order. I don’t know what I’m doing, so please excuse me if my efforts are amateurish. Hopefully, Nikko will get better soon and will resume his journal. He let Echi write it once. Echi is a creepy Tiefling that lives inside Nikko’s head, and probably at least part of the reason that Nikko is sick. I don’t know what I would do if I had to live with a vulgar theif nattering away at me all hours of the night and day.

I’m not saying that all thieves are bad or that vulgarity doesn’t have its place. Any king would be glad of the services of a master burglar or assassin under certain circumstances. History is full of theives that become heroes and save the day. We even have one ourselves. His name is Sly. He doesn’t like me much, so I keep my distance and try not to aggravate him, but I have seen him fight and theif enough times that I know he is good at his job. He is also honest and direct, a quality that is rare and of great value. I hope that some day I can earn his respect, but as long as he doesn’t kill me, I guess I can’t complain too much.

As for vulgarity, it is a vice that men like to indulge in when they are around other men–like drinking. They keep their tongues civil when there is a lady present, but once away from female influence, the epiphets flow like water… in Mythgar at least. Even Nikko and Arliss indulge. Arliss is a priest of Varnus, but he has a colorful vocabulary after a few mugs of ale. Varnus seems to be a tolerant God. Jeridiah is a paladin of Varnus, and he seldom curses. I guess he is the "exception that proves the rule", whatever that means.

Yes, I am rambling. My apologies. First, let me tell you about my companions. Nikko says that story telling is all about perspective. I would like to give you my perspective on them, as it colors what I say, and will be useful to you if you read this and don’t just skip over to the next part where Nikko is writing again.

Nikko is a wizard, but more than that, he is a Conjurer. His specialty is making things out of nothing with magic, and moving people around. He does a lot more than that, of course, but that is what he does best. He makes fogs of all varieties, from those that obscure vision to those that choke and kill. He can make walls of stone, balls of acid, fields of grasping black tentacles, and countless other things. Even more amazing is when he moves himself and others around as if it were nothing. Sometimes he even moves our enemies around, and that sure makes them mad.

Nikko is very powerful. His magic does things that the rest of us couldn’t hope to do, except maybe Arliss. But more than that, he is my best friend. He was the first of my companions to speak to me, and probably the first adult to do so without patronizing. He has always treated me like a man, even when he is being protective. He tells me the truth, straight up, and doesn’t try to soften the blow, and yet he isn’t cruel about it. When we had to kill the black orc boy, way back in the beginning, I was pretty shook up. Nikko helped me get through it and put it into perspective. That was a kind thing to do, and I love him for it, for that an many other reasons.

Arliss is also very kind. I was brought up to see Pelor as above all of the other Gods, but Arliss doesn’t try to change my mind about that. He often takes the time to give me the benefit of Varnus’s wisdom and philosophy, but he isn’t pushy about it, and he never disrespects Pelor. More than any of the rest, he treats me like a son, and though I really want everyone to see me as a man, it’s good to have someone to look up to whose heart and actions are in the right place.

It is amazing how much of Varnus divine magic that Arliss can channel. Few battles go by that someone isn’t snatch back from the precipice when he should have been dead. Jeridiah is a master at almost-dying. Arliss has had to save even me, and they try their best ot keep me out of the battle most of the time. I do what they tell me, though sometimes I hate it, because I understand that I’m just a kid and I don’t want to get someone killed because they are trying to save me from my own stupidity. I think that I mostly obey because I would hate to disappoint Arliss. He can summon guilt with a glance, and not a bit of magic in it.

Marqes is the most undignified dwarf that I have ever met. I think he is a little bit crazy. He treats me well, but I try not to chum around with him too much, because he will preach at you until you can find a reasonable excuse to leave. His ideas about Saint Cuthbert are strange, and unlike anything I’ve read about in my studies or anyone I’ve heard preaching the Saint’s gospel on the streets. He reminds me a little of Brock, only shorter, harier, and crazier.

But even though Marqes is a master of powerful magics, he would rather be smacking things with his mace than casting spells like a priest. He also has a penchant for trying to convert everyone we meet to the worship of Saint Cuthbert. I don’t know if his elders would approach. I don’t think he would care what his elders thought. His zeal for "The Word" transcends anyone I’ve witnessed who wasn’t standing on a crate by the street on the Street of Red Lights.

Elijah is like Nikko–somewhat aloof and mysterious. He too commands powerful magic, but his spells are for blasting things, usually through his mighty hammer. He is very quiet, though he and Nikko will often converse at length by the edge of the camp. I think he’s just more "elfy" than Nikko, since Nikko spent his childhood mostly with half-elves and others, and his mother wasn’t as snooty as most elves either. But Elijah doesn’t come off as contemptuous of other. He’s just a private person and wishes to keep it that way.

When the fighting starts, Elijah stands toe-to-toe with the nastiest and most terrifying enemies. I have never seen anyone who can deliver a blow as devestating as Elijah. I have seen him put hearty foes down in a single swing, and there have been many times when the earth shakes beneath my feet when his hammer strikes the ground or a wall. It isn’t just brute force either. Elijah is a master of his chosen weapon. I have spent many hours learning from him. He doesn’t take it easy on me at all. He says that the enemy won’t take be gentle, so neither should he. I see his wisdom in this, but have paid for it with many bruises.

Talon seems very reserved most of the time, but when he gets excited about something, he’s talks so fast that he’s difficult to follow. He has a tendency to get involved in things that aren’t relevant to our quest and, as a result, he is too often absent during a fight. Nikko says that it is Talon’s nature and that he can no more resist these entanglements than I could resist trying to honor my father. I suppose he is right.

All of that become moot, however, when Talon is around. His bow is magnificent, and he can draw and release faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. The bow is my primary weapon, as the others prefer me to stay a good distance away from the fighting, but I am like a gentle shower to Talon’s furious thunderstorm. I have but to look away for a heartbeat, and a foe will have three or four arrows buried to the fletchings in his chest. A man who picks a fight with Talon has best make sure it starts at close quarters. Otherwise, it will just be target practice.

Jeridiah is the most fearless man I know. Consequently, he spends a good bit of time chopped to ribbons and commands a good bit of Arliss’s healing. But his lack of prudence is balanced by his forthright honesty, his clarity of purpose, and his unswerving devotion to his God. I can’t imagine every choosing to follow his path. I’m too weak of will for that, but I can admire it in him. 

The paladin wields an enormous greatsword. I am very interested in learning the weapon, but Father says that a leader, whether King or Captain, must symbolize the office on the battlefield. He must wield the sword in his right hand to symbolize the wrath of might, and the shield on his left arm as a symbol of the his divine obligation to defend his kingdom. Cannus once told me that the shield also serves to keep a leader from getting skewered by some wiley archer hiding in a tree. He said it in jest, but there is truth to that. It is a concept I am very familiar with.

There is a downside, of course, to Jeridiah’s unalloyed piety. He would sacrifice himself, or any of us, if that is what the situation required. Men like that are valuable, but they are also dangerous. A leader cannot afford to bring his command down to prove a point. I have read many stories of men fighting valiantly to the last sword, but always because the battle was lost and escape impossible. To squander one’s men futily is not a virtue.

And then there is Sly. He is from a far-distant land where the name Keilrand is unknown and the ways of the Kingdom are strange. He is pitiless, remorseless and unmoved by anything except the success and welfare of our group. He sees me and the quest we follow as a distraction from our well-being. I do not doubt that he would abandon me or take my life if doing so wouldn’t alienate the rest of them.

I considered staying back in the stronghold with Ranae when they set off for the Crystalline Halls because of Sly’s scorn. But in the end, I could not live in relative comfort while others fought and faced death for my sake and the sake of my sisters. So the desert warrior’s contempt is the price I must pay to do what is right. Father says that doing the right thing always has a price. If this is the worst I must bear, then I consider myself fortunate indeed.

---

The Mysterious Black Obelisk

"Some puzzles are better solved with an abundance of wit and a classical education rather than a big hammer. So I’ve heard." — Torgash

There was something strange about the rough-hewn black obelisk in the room where they killed the drow–something other than the fact that it was a rough-hewn black obelisk in the middle of a room, that is. The magically-inclined insisted that it radiated a faint trace of divine power. Or was it arcane? Even Nikko with his extraordinary insight couldn’t say for sure. The others said it was a rock.

They studied its surface like miners looking for a speck of gold amongst the gravel, but it was ordinary in every respect save circumstance. It just didn’t belong there. Finally, patience exhausted, the unlikely hammer-wielding elf named Elijah said, "Stand back and let me solve this for you."

With that, he spit on both hands and torqued the handle of his silvery-black hammer; lean muscles bulging in his arms like a woodsman preparing to fell the largest oak in the forest. He began with the hammer down near his feet, his grip and stance wide. He brought the heavy weapon up and over his back. His hands slid together as the hammer arced forward. The floor tremored as a ear-splitting crash shattered the air. Countless bits of black stone showered through the air, ranging in size from grit to large gravel. Two larger chunks fell to the floor at the base of the obelisk. We all stepped back a good bit further.

After several minutes of exertion, the towering stone was much diminished and a metallic box protruded from the wreckage at the center of the column. Elijah himself was bloody from the myriad chips that pierced his skin. Marqes stepped in and finished the job with his mace, dislodging the box in a few moments of finer work. The elf was happy to stand aside and wipe the blood and sweat from his arms and face. Arliss soon had Elijah patched up as good as new, but still looking unusually fierce because of all the smears of black dirt on him.

The box was two feet on a side and seamless except where the lid met the box. The brown-skinned thief, Sly to his companions, took the box from Marqes and set it on the floor. He studied it closely for a bit, then ran his hands over it. The box gleamed. Sly tapped it a few times in various spots, listening carefully. Finally satisfied, he turn the box so the hinges faced him, then quickly opened the lid.

Inside was an obviously valuable scroll case. The tube was crafted from good ivory of a blueish tinge, with an adornment of gold filigree in fanciful patterns and a top that held snuggly to it. Arliss approached the box and took the case in his hands. Carefully, he twisted the cap several times until it came free. Inside was a scroll. It was written on skin, but so finely flensed that the light shone through it. The markings and diagrams on its three-foot length were scribed in a silver-flecked blue ink. I couldn’t read a bit of it. 

Nikko waited patiently while Arliss perused it at length. When Arliss finally handed it to the wizard, he shook his head. "It is touched by Varnus, along with half a dozen other of the Gods, but I can’t read it."

Nikko scanned it for a moment. "It’s Draconic," he muttered, then continued his study. After five minutes, he looked up Arliss and Marqes and handed the scroll back to the priest. "Arcane I’m afraid," he said apologetically. "Very powerful. It is made to combat Llolth herself, and when cast it will removed the demon queen’s immortality and enough of her protections to make her vulnerable. You’ll need a better mage than I to cast it. I might succeed, in a pinch, but this isn’t the kind of thing you get a second chance to use."

The Demon Queen Llolth was known in Mythgar, but as a myth. The drow believe in her, but who except heroes ever encountered one of those. The elves believe in her too. It isn’t considered a polite subject to broach with them. It is wise to study the texts and leave the old ones be. Most of what I’d learned came from Cannus, and he knew more than the elves, but even "the Yapper" was reluctant to say much.

Arliss stowed the scroll carefully in his pack. Nikko wouldn’t take it, and snapped at the priest when he pressed. He wasn’t really mad at Arliss, just irritated. He continued to mumble to himself harshly for some time after that, as we trekked back to the room before the books. There was an odd portal there, a doorway encased in rough stone as if Arliss had used his powers to shape stone around it to seal it up.

---

The Drow of Dun Kinnis

"Thick stone walls will discourage robbers and repel armies, but if it’s adventurers you want to ward off, leave the way open." — Brock

Marqes refers to this place as "Dun Kinnis". When I asked him why he calls it that, he told me that it was Dwarven for "Hall of Glass". I like the name better than the one Nikko gave it, so it stuck in my mind. Dun Kinnis evokes images of some deserted Dwarven fortress, high in the mountains. I could envision its great treasures guarded by restless spirits. Father says I should save that kind of fluff for the ladies. I guess I’m still too much of a child yet to heed his advice.

Arliss used his stone-shaping magic to peel the rock away from the doorway like so much mud. Behind it, a metal door, possibly steel, barred the way. Not thinking it likely that anyone would bother to put a trap on a door encased in stone, the priest grasped the metal handle and pulled it open. Behind the door was more stone. "Don’t waste your magic on this," Elijah said, gently pushing Arliss aside. The elf tapped the stone a few times with his hammer, then gave it a firm, measured blow. Cracks formed in the surface. He hit it again, and shards fell away. After two more shots, a metal rod became visible, embedded in the stone.

Carefully, Elijah chipped away the surrounding rock. Within minutes, he was able to pull the two-foot rod from its bed. It was shiny, like polished steel. There was an inscription on it that looked like Elvish, but after a short while, the elf handed the rod to Sly with a look of distaste. "Drow," he spat. Sly read it, but as Elijah was busy bashing out the rest of the rock, I couldn’t hear much of what he said. It sounded like a warning though. I knew better than to question the thief.

Beyond the ragged doorway and the mid-sized pile of rubble, a hallway of a sort angled to the right. Lining the walls of the hall were barrels, boxes and casks stacked high. Marqes grabbed one barrel that didn’t have anything piled on it and pulled the bung out of the end. He stuck his nose in the hole and took a good snort. "Not bad," he opinined. "This one’s ale, as likely are some of the others. Best yeh let me taste it first in case it’s poisoned."

With that the dwarf dropped his pack, then proceeded to extract a large tankard of some burnished metal. "Knew this’d come in handy," he said with a grunt as he hoisted the barrel, filling his tankard to the brim without spilling a single drop. With a thump, he set the barrel back down again. He hefted the tankard and drained the entire thing without pause. He smacked the white foam from his lips and mustache with a grin and prounced it "drinkable".

We all fished our cups from our packs and waited while Marqes filled each to the brim with exacting precision. It was as good or better than most of the ale I’ve had at feastdays. Only Nikko refused to partake. He went hunting through the smaller casts until he found one full of wine. This he poured himself, and didn’t seem to mind when he sloshed a little over the side. Marqes didn’t mind either. He seemed to have no interest in what he referred to as "grape juice". The others had several cups before standing, belching, and starting the task of moving all of the stored goods into the room we’d come from. I stopped after one, my head already a bit swimmy.

The hallway looked ominous once everything was cleared away. It shouldn’t have, but it did. At the opposite end was a door of iron. It was quite ordinary in appearance. Sly approached it first and declared it safe to open. Jeridiah came forward and waited for everyone to signal that they were ready. He even looked at me and waited for my nod. That made me feel good.

Jeridiah opened the door. Beyond there appeared to be a hallway going left to right. Sly stuck his head into the hall and looked both ways. He made the flat-handed signal that meant "wait", then quietly stalked off to the left. A moment later, he pass by on his way to the right. After a bit, he returned and pointed to the right. He made a two-fisted gesture three times, meaning "thirty feet", then mouthed the word "dryder" as he wiggled his fingers in the direction of the floor like a spider.

The thief tapped Nikko on the chest, then tapped himself, then made yappy motions with this hand and looked at the wizard and grabbed him by the upper arm. Nikko nodded, then both of them walked slowly toward the right, having a low conversation in Drow. We all crowded into the doorway and watched them approach a corner in the hall to the left. Just as they got to the corner, a harsh voice barked something at them in Drow. By this time we were all into the hallway. Sly then said something else, this time clearly, and charged down the hallway around the corner.

We rushed to the corner. The dryder was backed up against a sea of black tentacles, no doubt provided by Nikko. I could hear shouts coming from across the tentacled area. Jeridiah was the first to arrive at Sly’s side and he struck the elf-spider with his greatsword. The creature was already badly wounded and securely entanlged by the tentacles, but not helpless. Sly had blood running freely down his arm. The thief swung his scimitar overhand, forcing the dryder to block with his own sword. Quicker than you could think, Sly’s dagger flashed, and the dryder’s belly was opened up and his insides spilled on the floor.

I’ve seen a lot of killing since I first came to stone. I’ve done a bit of it myself, and taken a few hits from enemies that wanted to kill me. But I’m not ennured to it yet, and the sight of spider guts falling out of the dryder like a bucket of slop made my gorge rise. I fought it back. I would be motified if I ever sicked up in front of these heroes who never blanched at the most vile of things they were forced to endure. If Sly could smile with coils of green intestine sloshed all over his boots, I could persevere.

Marqes and whoever was on the far side of the tentacle started a long-distance duel–the drow with arrows and Marqes with the righteous fury of Saint Cuthbert in the form of burning rays of light. At that point, Nikko grabbed my arm and hustled me up to the doorway we had entered through. "Stay here and don’t get killed," he ordered. I unslung my bow and knocked an arrow, leaning my longsword against the wall. I hadn’t even realized that I’d drawn it.

Nikko ran off to help Elijah, who had gone off to the left. Around the corner in that direction came an armored drow on the floor and a dryder with a bow on the ceiling. The warrior has an evil-looking mace that he bounced off of Elijah. On the right, I heard and bellow and Marqes came stumbling back, blood spurting from his leg. An arrow must have opened an artery. The dwarf collapsed. With the wave of Arliss’s hand, the jetting blood stopped, and Marqes began to push himself off of the floor. I told you the priest was good.

Jeridiah flew down the hall and slammed into drow warrior with such force, it would have killed a lesser man, and probably most bears. From the right again, the sound of a door opening, then a dryder charged into the corner right toward Arliss! The priest spoke a word an waved his hand, and the dryder stopped. Sly stepped up behind the elf-spider and sank his blades into its backside. 

Nikko shouted a word in his language of magic, and suddenly everyone was somewhere else… except me. All of our guys were behind Jeridiah who was still fighting the drow warrior. The dryders were gone, but I could hear someone thrashing about in the direction of the tentacles. Elijah hammerd the drow warrior, crushing his skull. Arliss bent down and pulled the arrow from Marqes’s leg. The dwarf called him a name I must not repeat.

The group all moved around the corner, and I ran to keep them in sight. I didn’t need to get caught by myself with angry dryders in the other direction, trying to break free of the tentacles. I came around just in time for a wave of healing to wash over me as Arliss cast a spell. I wasn’t hurt, but like everyone, I tend to carry around a number of scrapes and bruises that aren’t worth fussing over. Those were gone, and I didn’t realize how annoying they were until then.

I could see several dryders on the other side of the guys, and a large opening on the left of the hallway. A massive column of flame sprang from the ceiling and smashed into the floor where Jeridiah and Elijah were standing. They both screamed. Who wouldn’t? The flame was gone as quickly as it had come, but both warriors were still standing, though smoke wafted from their hair and gear. A hail of dryder arrows zipped into us and Jeridiah fell. 

Sly was still back at the other corner and finished the dryder that had charged Arliss. Never satisified to merely kill someone, Sly has to heap insult upon injury by making it look like a fancy ballroom dance. The dryder certainly looked offended. Back at my corner, Elijah was still up and close enough to a dryder to wallop him with his hammer. 

Nikko weaved a circular pattern in the air above his head and small stones began to rain down on the clustered dryders and others in the opening to the left that I couldn’t see from my vantage point. Each time a stone would strike, the dryder would flinch as if stung, and wisps of black smoke would pull out of their bodies and into the stone as it clattered on the ground. A moment later, the rain of rock ended, and a dryder lay unmoving on the floor.

A thick blanker of fog settled over the drow. At first I thought that they’d cast it on themselves to cover their retreat, but I heard Nikko yell out "Solid!" and I knew it was his doing. That sort of fog is like running through a room filled ot the ceiling with pillows. On more than one occasion, we’ve thrown outselves into it using daring feats of acrobatics, knowing that it would cusion our fall. We do have fun sometimes.

A single dryder struggled free of the fog and started shooting arrows at Elijah, who charged at him. Nikko shouted a word we all like to hear and suddenly, time slowed down around me. I am not sufficiently skilled to fire a bow into a fight without hitting my own team like Talon can, but if I could, I would have rained death down on that dryder. 

Arliss stepped forward at what looked like normal speed to me, but I knew from experience was actually very fast. Another wave of healing washed over me and everyone else. Jeridiah charged the dryder who seemed to react very slowly. Too slowly. The paladin cut him in half. Marqes ran into the fog, seemingly not slowed by it at all. I heard metal on metal, then a grunt followed by metal hitting stone with the weight of a dwarf behind it. That couldn’t be good.

The fog disappeared. The battle moved off to the left and I ran up to the corner so I could see. Elijah and Jeridiah were fighting a big drow with really nice armor and a javelin. Marqes was on his feet again and battling a dryder. An electric sizzling sound cracked through the air and black sparks flew off of Marqes, Elijah and Jeridiah. "Damned priest, where are ya!" the dwarf cursed.

Two imposing drow stepped up on Elijah and a flurry of blows commensed. The elf was fluid in his grace, and he was barely touched by the storm of flashing steel. One of the drow had twin scimitars, and I wondered if Sly would trade his in if we survived the fight. A drow with a longsword hit Jeridiah twice in quick succession and the paladin dropped. Try not to be alarmed when this happens or you’ll wear yourself out.

Elijah punished the scimitar drow a bit, and stepped back just in time to avoid being caught in a blast of fire from Nikko’s fingertiips. It is crazy how much fire that spells puts down. He could decimate half an army with it. Arliss held his arms up, splayed his fingers and a huge wave of healing radiated from him, rousing Jeridiah. Marqes stepped around to the opposite side of the scimitar drow and simply beat him to death with three massive blows of his mace.

A harsh word rang out, and everything went strange on me. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breath, and could barely see. I came back to my sense to see Nikko blanked a group of drow with glitterdust. Two drow warriors were thrashing around, blind, but a dryder had avoided getting the sparkly stuff in his eyes. A drow without armor was always covered with the stuff, but able to see. Perhaps this was the priest that Marqes had cursed.

A ray of scorching flame shot from the drow’s fingers, but luckily missed everyone. Sly got too close to one of the blind fighters and the drow cut him down. Embarassing that, but I won’t say anything. He immediately struggled back to his feat with a look on his face as if he’d meant it to happen. Elijah went after the caster and caught her with a nice shot. 

We must have been getting too scattered. Nikko shouted. The drow were now on one side and we were on the other, all neat and tidy. Except for the one blind fighter who got sent off to the back. The other blind guy soon had Jeridiah and Marqes charging into him. The caster gestured at the poor fellow and most of his wounds faded away in an instant. The remaining dryder started shooting arrows at Marqes, and the others started moving toward the drow when a noxious black cloud eveloped most of the dark elves and started immediately drifting away from us. Jeridiah charged the female caster as soon as she was clear of the fog, slaying her with one mighty swing.

The fight went on for a short time after, but it was all mop-up work. Elijah killed the near fighter, then pivoted and beheaded the dryder. It was a very nice move. By the time the cloud rolled away from the last drow fighter, he was staggering and weak. Jeridiah, swelled to twice normal size by Nikko’s magic, stepped in and cut the poor fellow in half. 

If I made the fight sound exciting and glorious, I apologize. It is how I choose to remember it, though while I was going through it, I felt either sickened or frightened beyond endurance. That’s nothing unusual. I spend most of my time during fights scared half to death. The violence and brutality are no less intimidating when they are being committed by your companions. At those times, I truly feel like a small boy among mighty men. It shames me, but I am secretly glad that I am not expected to fight alongside the rest of them. I don’t know if I could do it.