EpicTable Legacy of Fire

Sessions Two and Three
Of Holy Ruins Most Befouled

Scribed by the hand of Zahar Al-Zakariya, Acolyte of the Dawnflower

Monastery 300x277At Almah’s behest, we set out ahead of the caravan to secure Saranrae’s ruined temple-monastery. Salim is anxious to test his blade, and Almut seems always to hunger for armed conflict, yet I feel more fear than I expected. I wish not to see what has become of the Dawnflower’s once peaceful refuge, but I cannot help but feel near overwhelming curiosity as to what forgotten treasures might be found, despite who or what may be now calling these ruins home. I trust in Saranrae to guide my scimitar as needed, just as I trust in Salim and Almut to guide their own blades with more skill than I will ever possess. Thankfully, I have the gifts of the Healing Flame to see us through our trials.

Pugwampis! Again!

Oh, how we all loathe those ill-lucked little bastards. Although we fared well enough and defeated them all (even bringing down the fleeing one sure to return with more), Salim was sore affected by their toxins. His normally swift and fluid movements have been greatly dulled, reducing his combat effectiveness to little better than my own.

0baboonWe cleared out the southernmost chambers, slaughtering a band of vicious baboons who had claimed the area for a nest. Their filth has ruined anything that may have once held value.

Damn those dirty apes!

We have found much defacing of the various bas-reliefs depicting legendary battles between the elemental forces of Flame and Air. It seems that a knowing hand guiding this blasphemy, it not being caused by the feral pugwampis or simple animalistic baboons. Despite my better judgment, I fear I am compelled to learn the identity and disposition of these cursed vandals.

I am veritably seething! As if pugwampis weren’t already the most gods-forsaken ill-lucked creatures to ever walk the sands of this land…they have brought their worship of gnolls into the Dawnflower’s home! We uncovered a nest of them, and their leader, in the chapel. They had hoisted up a macabre chandelier of gnoll skulls where only the pure rays of the Everlight herself should have shone.

King mokknockIt was another hard-fought battle against these vermin, with their King Mockknock availing himself somewhat admirably. His girth and breastplate absorbed many blows that would have rent his minions in twain, while his warhammer rained down much harder than could have been expected from one so small as him, no matter how corpulent he might have been.

Almut has shown himself to be a holy avenger, slaying pugwampis left and right in the name of Saranrae. I never expected to find so much comfort in the presence of such bloodlust. I must learn more of his past! As always, Salim proved to be one with his weapon, as he flashed deaths faster than I could tally them. And all this with his reflexes dulled by toxin! When the sunlight glitters off his blade, I know that I have been blessed in companions for this endeavor. How could they ever wrong me or leave me wanting?

Next, we venture down to the crypts, where the warmth of the Everflame cannot reach…

Session One
Of Caravans Most Perilous & Flammable

Scribed by the hand of Zahar Al-Zakariya, Acolyte of the Dawnflower

I have been chosen to reclaim Saranrae’s ruined temple from the sands south of the lost city of Kelmarane. I cannot think of a higher honor for one so young as I (22 years as of this writing). The lost secrets I might recover, the forgotten treasures I may unearth…they drive me as much as the guiding warmth of the Everlight, as Saranrae is sometimes also known.

Joining up with Caravaneer Garavel and Merchant Princess Almah, on their way to Kelmarane, I met Salim the swordsman and Almut the secretive. Both are also seeking something on this trip: Salim to further his knowledge of swordplay; Almut for reasons he is keeping close to his heart at this time. Salim is an openly pleasant man who, despite his obvious skill at arms, seems to place a very high value on all life. Despite his darkly secretive manner, Almut seems a religious man and has shown great interest in me while remaining tremendously respectful of my holy station. I feel
confident in my success if I can continue to count these two as friends.

Although, I will admit to being just a little more than simply intrigued to learn more of Almut’s motivations.

There was an explosion and fire in the alchemist’s wagon. I truly hope that old man died quickly and did not have to suffer. All who worship Saranrae understand the healing warmth of flame as well as we do the all-consuming danger of it. The event seemed so sudden as to warrant investigation, lest we allow a saboteur to remain among our ranks. It was during our rounds of questioning immediately after the blast that Samir noticed a skulking figure among the wagons.
Confronting the man, Samir learned he was a mercenary named Dashki. Being slow-of-wit and somewhat infatuated with Merchant Princess Almah, Dashki was the object of ridicule amongst the caravan’s other fighters. He claimed to be an expert on gnolls and tracking. And most interestingly, claimed the alchemist met his star-crossed demise due to the presence of pugwampis.

Laying the blame at the feet of little gibbering monsters from children’s tales only fanned the flames of scorn and derision. However, Salim and Almut and I were willing to join Dashki on a late-night hunt for these creatures. Our hopes were to simply rule out any outside influence while being able to speak freely about our suspects. Never in a lifetime of sunrises did we think Dashki was right!

PugwampiWe were ambushed by a pugwampi in a cactus thicket near a ravine. We prevailed, but it was a hard-won victory. The tiny verminous creature used some type of lethargy toxin on its weapons, dulling all physical coordination in its victims. Worst of all, it seemed to exude some sort of bad luck aura. I am a martially-trained devotee of Saranrae and no stranger to training grounds, even if I am somewhat less than battle-hardened, but I have never for the life of me seen so many dropped weapons, tripped attackers, slips and slides, and near-misses.

Puwampis live underground and come out only at night. They shun the touch of the Dawnflower as if it were anathema to them. And that is the reason they are cursed. Of this there can be no doubt.

Back at the caravan, Merchant Princess Almah called for the wagons to make for a ruined monastery just south of Kelmarane. There we are to make camp, providing a defensible base from which to retake the lost city

But first, a party of brave souls must venture ahead of the caravan to clear the monastery of any current inhabitants…


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