Journey to Erudin – Highpass – Day 1

My eyes are so tired, I can barely keep them open. What a day it’s been. Dreketh finally fell asleep here next to the fire, so I can take the time to make this entry without her asking any questions. I swear that inkie is going to kill me with her constant bickering and condescension.

It’s late. I should probably join her, but I think this log is important in case anything happens to me out here. At least, that’s the reason Headmistress Netheel gave for keeping a regular journal. It sounds good to me, so I’m doing it. Anyway, if anything here seems confusing, we’ll just chalk it up to my being half-asleep as I write, and leave it at that. We won’t mention that I haven’t an ounce of bardic skill, so my ability as a chronicler will probably leave a lot to be desired.

Where to start? At the beginning, I guess.

We left Freeport for Erudin early one morning. Dreketh was a total grouch (as always), but I guess I can’t really blame her. If I remember right, dark elves are nocturnal, and that was about the time she’d normally be going to sleep. I tried to imagine what kind of mood I’d be in if she got me up at midnight to start our day, and that helped me deal with her attitude… for about an hour.

In the end, I guess it was a good thing she was in a no-nonsense mood that morning. We made incredible progress through the Commonlands. Since those are her stomping grounds, she knows all the shortcuts and landmarks all around. Me? I became immediately lost. Everything looked the same, even the buildings the humans live in. But we’d stop every once in a while, and she’d point out where we were on her map. Taking it on faith, I saw we were making very fast progress without any distractions or dangerous animals blocking our way. I have to hand it to her, for all her faults, she knows her way around that area.

We made it through the Commonlands by mid-afternoon. Personally, I was amazed. If I were going through it alone, it would have taken me three days of following the paths and fighting off those fauna who would think I’d make a tasty snack. And then there are the Deathfist orcs, but she managed to steer us clear of them, too.

What lightning-fast progress we made came to a halt when we reached a wooded place called “Kithicor.” Apparently Dreketh’s never gone that far west. Later on, after I was belatedly informed that the dismal wood was haunted, I discovered why.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Kithicor is—in a word—dismal. I’ve never been in any jungles like they have in South Antonica, but Kithicor is as close as I’d ever like to come. The air was so thick, I felt like I was drowning. Even though the temperature wasn’t all that hot, I was sweating under Rigel’s tunic. A lot. I never knew how rabbit’s fur could cling to you like that, making your skin so clammy and itchy. I hated it. Dreketh didn’t seem too bothered by it in her plate armor, though. It must be all those years living in that dank cave they call a city.

Anyway, making matters worse, we became hopelessly lost. Why can’t people do something as simple as mark where a road leads? Is that really too much to ask? We must have met every possible dead end in that place at least a dozen times. No map, of course. That would be too easy. And do you think the residents would say one word to me for simple directions? I can’t believe the bigotry on this continent! Things may not be perfect in Faydwer, but at least we know how to be polite to our neighbors once in a while.

It was a really good thing we made such great progress earlier, or we never would have made it out of the forest by the time night fell and the undead arrived. That’s right—undead. Not just any undead like we have in the Faydark, but “undead undead” as Dreketh pointed out in her usual charming way.

Even though it was still daytime, we were accosted by at least fifty undead led by a human necromancer named Kieran. I didn’t exactly catch all the details, as I rather lost my senses at that point. I’d heard stories and seen pictures of undead creatures before, but they didn’t give credence to the real thing. I was scared out of my mind, thinking that I was about to be killed at any moment.

Thank Tunare Dreketh kept her head, though. In the face of certain defeat, she remained curt and defiant through the whole incident. It was really kind of inspiring, looking back on it. At the time it made me ashamed of my own fear. Maybe she has a thing or two to teach me after all.

We were saved at the last minute by a strange ranger who literally swooped in and killed the necromancer. I’ve seen elite rangers show off their skills during the spring festival in Kelethin, but I have never seen anyone move as fast as this man. In less time than it takes to write it down, the necromancer was dead and all the undead surrounding us just fell to the ground, lifeless.

Naturally, Dreketh laid into the ranger without so much as a thank you. I managed to exchange a few words with him, but I get the feeling he isn’t the sociable type. He did say, though, that he saved us out of love. What could that mean? He loves one of us? It sounds crazy, but I can’t think of anything else he could mean. If so, I wonder which one of us…?

Well, that’s a whole other discussion.

Before he left, he was kind enough to camouflage Dreketh so we could steal our way through Highpass without having to hide from every guard we came across. Since the spell was transitory, we had to rush through the hold as fast as we could, so I didn’t get to see much. What I did see was impressive, though. Not only was Highkeep there, but there were all sorts of shops and inns that I could see as we wound our way through the twisting chasms and gullies. Maybe some day I’ll return when I have the time to visit those places.

It took some time to navigate our way through, but we found the west gate eventually. By that time it was well into the night. So, Dreketh found us a secluded spot where we could set a fire and camp for the night without announcing to everyone we’re here. From what I overheard in the hold, there’s a huge canyon ahead of us tomorrow, with steep cliffs that will probably take a while to get through. But we’re past the worrisome part. At least I’m not afraid of heights. In fact, I said as much to the human who mentioned it, and he said, “If you’re not now, you soon will be!” Time will tell.

All in all, it’s been a busy day. We covered a lot of territory, and now we’re paying the price. I feel like I could sleep until winter.

One thing remains more disturbing than anything else. The necromancer we fought off in Kithicor claimed to be some sort of high priest of Bertoxxulous—the god of disease and death. Lord of the undead. What possible interest could He have in the Pact? He also seemed to be holding all the cards when it came to the Pact of Zeranon. In all the weeks of my training, Headmistress Netheel never once suggested that I might be in danger from Bertoxxulous, or any other deity for that matter.

It just confirms what Dreketh and I decided we must do from the beginning. We must find out who or what this Zeranon is, and what the Pact is all about. For all our differences, we both resent the fact that we’re the chosen advocates of the Pact, yet we seem to be the only ones involved who remain clueless about it.

I’m convinced now that we must get to Erudin as soon as possible. Someone has a lot of explaining to do.

Journey to Erudin – East Karanas – Day 2

I have never in my life seen such an enormous canyon! I’m used to passes like the one separating the Faydark from Butcherblock Mountains. The one separating Highpass from the Karana Plains makes that look like a field trough. There was a narrow (very narrow) mountain trail we followed that was so high, looking over the edge we couldn’t see the bottom.

We’re both still pretty tired from yesterday’s events, so we decided to make camp down here at the canyon mouth before venturing into the Karana Plains themselves. From what other travelers have told us in the canyon, the place can get pretty wild with some of the creatures that live out there.

If Dreketh wasn’t so bull-headed, I could make our journey through this area a breeze. As it is, she still refuses to accept any of my spells on her. I’m tempted to cast my camouflage spell on her anyway, just to show her she’s not going to shrivel up and die under Tunare’s blessing.

Journey to Erudin – Karanas – Day 5

Does this place ever stop raining? I swear, if I see even one more day of nonstop downpour out here, I’m going to drown! And it’s not just any rain. The raindrops are easily the size of walnuts. They slam into you with a soppy splash that soaks through even the thickest cloak, right to the skin.

Yesterday, we both decided we’d had enough of the rain. We’d had enough of dodging the lions too, not to mention the bandits, gnolls and griffons. So, while Dreketh waited in hiding, I approached one of the farmhouses out here and begged the use of their barn until the storm cleared.

Not the brightest idea. I quickly discovered that these people were more than just residents of the Karanas, but also worshippers of Karana Himself—god of the storm. The idea of seeking “shelter” from the storm didn’t sit well with them at all. They said it was an insult to the bounty their god sent them, which nurtured the land, and that I should keep such thoughts behind my tongue while I still had it.

Wet and miserable, I tried again at another farmhouse—this time being very careful about the words I used. Actually, I fibbed a little and said that I had caught cold in the rain, and needed a place to weather my illness. The farmer said I could stay in their barn so long as I hunted down and killed all the rats that vexed them so.

So here I am. Between paragraphs, I kill at least two rats that I find scurrying among the crates and tools in this barn. Shortly after nightfall, I managed to sneak Dreketh in here with me, so it’s a little easier with her help.

I guess that’s all there is to say today. I’m hoping the farmer will let us stay here for a while, at least until the weather clears up.

Journey to Erudin – Karanas – Day 10

I’m so sick of this place! The storm is entering its eighth straight day without any sign of letting up. The farmer is happy as a clam. Not only is he getting an abundance of fresh irrigation water in his basin, but he also hasn’t seen a rat in his barn for days.

At least our adventures in rodent-slaying have granted us leave to stay in the barn for as long as we need to. It’s a mixed blessing, though. We’re both itching to get out of here. The longer we stay, the more chance Dreketh’s presence will be discovered, and it wouldn’t surprise me if harboring a Teir’Dal is a hanging offense in these parts. Everything else seems to be.

One thing the storm has done is given Dreketh and me a little time to talk. Whether this is a good thing or a bad thing remains to be seen. At least we’ve stopped fighting over every little detail. We’ve had to. Otherwise, instead of rats, the farmer would find two elf corpses in his barn, their hands at each other’s throats.

Talking with Dreketh has given me a small glimpse in the life of a dark elf. It’s not pretty. I couldn’t imagine living in a place where you’re pretty much denied any kind of childhood. From the day they learn to speak, dark elf children are introduced to the philosophies of hate. They’re taught how hate is the source of their strength and power, and that it’s the mark of true greatness. It’s taught to children that the pain and suffering of other races is the gospel of praise to their Father, Innoruuk. Many, too, are inducted into the slavery of such terrifying gods as Rallos Zek and Cazic-Thule, if you can believe that. Children!

I’m speechless, to put it mildly. Just speechless.

Before I had to get up and leave, I asked Dreketh if that was what her childhood was like. That was when she turned jaded on me. From what I can tell, her parents were killed in some battle that took place a decade or more ago in Butcherblock Mountains. I’m not up on the history of war in Faydwer (it’s not exactly my forté), so I’m fuzzy on the details.

What I did find out is that the bronze armor she wears belonged to her mother, and her sword was wielded by her father. She even let me touch the armor and the sword. I’m no expert, mind you, but it’s plain to see that it was a skillful hand that crafted them. When I asked about the missing breastplate, though, she completely stopped talking. Apparently I touched a nerve.

It’s okay, though. There are some things about my past I’d rather she not know about, too. To this day, I cannot believe I told her I was still a virgin! I just think back on that moment in Neriak, and I just can’t help groaning to myself. Granted, I was under a lot of stress, but still… it’s not something you go blabbing about to just anyone. Oh well, at least she didn’t make fun of me. A lot of my friends would have, if they knew.

Dreketh doesn’t seem too interested in hearing about my past anyway. At least, she hasn’t given any sign that she is.

She’s a hard one to figure out. Her cold and heartless exterior makes it really tough to read her body language. But once in a great while, I catch sight of a crack in her shield, and I see a glimpse of emotion in her eyes. It’s a fierceness that I’ve never seen before. Passionate, in a sense. I’m not sure what to make of it, but it mystifies and scares me all at the same time. If that’s what Teir’Dal emotion is like, then it’s little wonder they keep themselves so bottled up.

Well, I guess I’ll close for now. I have a hard day of absolutely nothing ahead of me.

Journey to Erudin – Karanas – Day 12

The rain finally let up, and we’re no longer in the barn. We’re hurrying to pack our things up so we can get going as soon as we can. We’ve already wasted enough time in this infernal place, and there’s really nothing to write about the last two days anyway, so that’s all I’m putting down for now.

Journey to Erudin – Karanas – Day 15

These people are beyond belief! If they aren’t the most paranoid, god-fearing folk in all of Norrath, then I’m Pokey the Gnomish Clown! Every little thing they don’t approve of must be a sign from Karana that their crop is going to wither and die. Nevermind the downpour they were just celebrating not two days ago!

It was bound to happen, though. Someone caught sight of Dreketh as we were traveling about ten days ago. We decided to follow a path, since we didn’t have a map (still don’t), and therefore no real means of telling where we were. The road markers out here make about as much sense as an ogre doing needlepoint. We figured it was less risky than heading due west and hoping for the best. (I’m such a poet!)

Anyway, someone saw Dreketh and decided she was the biggest threat to king and country they’d seen since the plague. We were arrested, taken prisoner, and brought before the guards of one Antonius Bayle. Apparently he’s the ranking sovereign of some sort over here in these lands. I think I heard Dreketh mention his name once or twice, so I gather he’s some sort of powerful figure in Antonica.

So there we were, standing in the midst of all these very angry, heavily armed people demanding that we be taken to trial for crimes against Karana and the state. I’m not sure about all that went on, because the accents of these humans of the west are so distorted in the common tongue, it sounds like a whole different language. At any rate, from what I can tell, the guards there didn’t want anything to do with it, so they told the people to take us to the tower down the road. They did. Once we got there, the same thing happened. Shouting people making demands, non-committal guards not wanting to get involved, and we’re moved to the next tower.

Two whole days of this went by! We must have had the grand tour of every damned tower in the whole damned area! Neither of us could believe the fanaticism of these people. It must get really boring out here on the plains where there’s nothing to do but watch the crop grow.

Finally we arrived at the very last tower. While the now irate crowd was petitioning us to the guards, an enormous pack of wolves took it upon themselves to raid the tower. Chaos broke out, and Dreketh and I took the opportunity to escape in the confusion. Having no clue where we were, we’ve been wandering around trying to figure out which way to go ever since.

I think we’ve found our way now, but it’s too close to dawn to start out. (I hate traveling at night, but it’s a necessary evil out here, apparently.) We’re both tired and hungry. We ran out of provisions two days ago, and I’ve been doing my best to forage up something edible for the two of us without having to raid any of the farms around. That’s all we’d need is to get caught stealing someone’s harvest. They’d probably just kill us on the spot.

After all that’s said and done, I think we’re both about ready to declare war on this human nation out here.

Journey to Erudin – Qeynos Hills – Day 20

Finally we made it out of the Karana Plains. That place is so huge with such wide-open spaces, it made me long for the protective arms of the forest. Any forest. Well, except Kithicor. Or Nektulos.

I just looked over my last entry, and I sound so mad I can hardly recognize my own words. After calming down over the past few days, I guess I came to realize that these humans aren’t so different from any other mass of seething paranoid individuals living in the same place. I’m not happy over missing ten days of travel time on account of the Karanas (we’d be there right now), but I just can’t stay angry for long periods.

Dreketh, on the other hand, has gone into a kind of melancholy ever since the incident when the humans spotted her on the road. I wish I knew what was wrong. All things considered, maybe I should say I wish I knew what was right. I can’t imagine being a dark elf is an easy thing, what with everyone reviling you at every turn. Not that it isn’t well earned, but it still must be taxing.

At least her bitter anger isn’t directed at me anymore.

Things should pick up, though. Another traveler told us that anyone (even a Teir’Dal) can enter the human city of Qeynos, so long as they bring with them a certifiable number of gnoll scalps. This was a good thing, since the only way to get to Odus Isle is via a ship that docks in Qeynos Harbor. He also mentioned a secret entrance to the city’s underground aqueduct system. Such a thing sounds fascinating to me, but apparently the followers of Bertoxxulous control those tunnels. That’s reason enough to banish any level of curiosity, I can assure you. There’s that, and I’m not in any hurry to relive that experience again any time soon.

So here we are, camping out after our first day of gnoll hunting. It’s a shame they insist on being so disagreeable to everyone. At first I balked at joining in the slaughter of these creatures, until Dreketh compared the gnoll raids on Qeynos to the orc raids on Kelethin. Consequently, I’ve said a lot of prayers over a lot of furry dead bodies today. I leave the gruesome work to Dreketh. So far she hasn’t complained.

We figure another few days of this and we’ll have enough scalps to buy Dreketh’s entrance to the city. Even though it’s yet another delay, I don’t mind it so much now. At least it’s our choice this time, and not some crazed band of people out to kill us in the name of righteous indignation.

It’s just now getting to me how far away from home I really am. When Dreketh rolls out her new map of Norrath, I see the Faydark labeled in big letters across the forested east side of Faydwer. Then I see where we are in West Antonica just north of Qeynos, and the sheer distance hits me. So many things lie between me and my home, I get kind of choked up when I think about it. I look up at the moon and it’s hard for me to believe it’s the same moon I saw whenever we visited Felwithe.

Everything here is so different. Humans inhabit this place like ants to an anthill. I have only seen one dwarf and a few halflings, but that’s all when it comes to any other race. Not a single elf. There are quite a few half-elves that I’ve seen, though they appear more human to my eyes, than anything. It’s just not the same.

There’s nothing familiar. Tunare isn’t ever mentioned in these parts. I’d be surprised if they’d even recognize the name if I spoke it. Everything around me is so deviant from what I’m used to. I guess this is what it means to be homesick. I stop to think about the possibility that I might perish out in these foreign lands, surrounded by all things unfamiliar, and it feels like someone hit me in the stomach.

But that’s not going to happen. I know in my heart that I will see the Faydark again some day. And when I do, I’ll see it with a whole new appreciation.

This I promise.

- Laera Nellynwae, Druid of Tunare

Chapter 10 - Strange Bedfellows