Abandoned Realms Homepage

Not long ago, a discovery was made in Serin. The body of an ancient
Mystic was unearthed, clutching a journal containing his last words. The
journal spoke of a demon invasion of Serin, much like the ones the realm
experiences today. It seems the demons have invaded in the past... And
were stopped. According to the journal, the key to stemming the tide of
these creatures and their portals was in summoning and defeating the Demon
Princes. There are four: one for each type of demon and the realm they come
from. It is known that the icy lands of Winter is one such realm and the
journal revealed that the Prince leading these demons was known as Baron
Zero.

And so, it was upon the last renewal that a grand group of travelers
descended into the depths of Winter, in search of a method to summon the
mysterious Baron Zero and destroy him. Their travels first led them to an
arch-mage who spoke a warning of the Baron... That an attempt was made to
summon him long ago but this led to great losses. Nevertheless, he gave the
adventurers an icy portal catalyst and encouraged caution on using such an
object. An exhaustive search through Winter was conducted, looking for the
precise location with the correct magical resonance for an icy portal to be
formed. Finally, the group came upon a strange hill where the sounds of
demons could be heard. It was here that the all prepared for battle... And
the catalyst was smashed. A portal sheathed in blue ice opened... And
demons from the depths of Winter poured forth! Had the situation only been
made worse? Were the warnings of the arch-mage indeed prophetic? A
desperate fight ensued against a hoard of white-eyed quasits and massive
tusked demons. After dispatching many of the foul creatures a sudden chill
struck the lands... Baron Zero arrived through the portal. With ferocious
alacrity, the undeterred adventurers struck at the Demon Prince with the
greatest weapons of the land while casting all manner of spells. The Baron
responded, sweeping the area with a chill that blasted all who opposed him.
Powerful magic swirled about in every direction until finally, through the
chaos... The Demon Prince was slain!

Yet something was amiss. The portal did not close. Demons continued to
pour forth. As many things in history would have it, defeating this evil
was not so simple. Almost overlooked, buried in the snow, was a frozen
demonic heart. The soul of the creature had survived. No amount of magic
seemed to be able to dispatch the object. Its frozen core withstood all
manner of attack. It would take something greater to destroy such a
powerful item. Perhaps the greatest fires known to Serin. Perhaps the
depths of a volcano. And so, the party ventured out of the cold of Winter
and into the mountains, down into a great volcano of fire. There, among the
boiling floors of magma, the heart of the demon was dropped into the lava.
The ancient frozen object slowly disintegrated in the great heat of the
earth. Suddenly, a column of steam shot forth to the sky and the magical
essence of the heart seemed to be carried away, back in the direction of the
tundra. Returning once more to Winter, the adventurers arrived to find the
portal had been closed and in its place, a magical seal trapping the essence
of the Demon Prince. At last, the battle had ended. The weary band of
travelers retired to a familiar tavern in Seringale, with song and drink
ending a night not soon to be forgotten.

Hear Ye, All of Serin!

It is with great jubilation that I can announce this day that after many
trying years of demon portals plaguing our land... They are no more! The
Demon Princes behind the invasions have been defeated by a brave group of
travelers and Serin is once again safe from demonic incursion. Some
speculate what this could mean and others are doubtful this is truly the end
of such portals. But they do seem to have disappeared, and with that, hope
is abound. Rumors swirl of powerful items left behind in the wake of the
portal closures. But few details have emerged to how these are related to
the invasion. All that is certain is that the town guards have been quieter
as of late, and that has led many to breathe easier.

This demonic invasion was not the first in the history of Serin and likely
will not be the last. But for now, people rejoice and sing in the taverns
that a great darkness has been defeated and many have scribed their names
into history as helping defeat this threat. To the future of Serin!

- Avenar, Master Scribe of History

New Officers, Same Corruption

The halls of Justice have finally come alive, but the new recruits are as
bad as the old. As might be expected, the recruitment methods have not
improved since Solmundi fell. He yet recruits Tyrants from the depths of
the Underdark, where entire societies are forced to bow to their leaders.
Where these new officers have never known the light of day, nor the peace
for which the average citizen strives.

Zstrxiq was witnessed leaving innocent citizens to the wiles of a dark beast
who whose warpath was only stilled under his black gaze. On multiple
occasions, upon seeing the beast drool with hunger, he fled town entirely.
Once, his need to leave town unprotected was strong enough to depart mid
conversation with Serin's foremost Mystic.

Further, he willfully disregards those privacies which we citizens hold
sacrosanct. As with Justices before him, he inclines towards the invasions
of guildhalls when no criminal bides within. Flashing their badges with
impunity to gain access to those areas where they would be otherwise
forbidden - for what purpose? It is a clear exhibit of power in order to
cow the population, a goal which Zstrxiq has stated openly.

Dear readers, you have read this story before. I know because I have
written it. This is but the first in a line of recruits to oppose. Let
them not rise in peace.

The Storm - As documented by Trillian Triffle, the Liberal Librarian

Sailors say there is always a calm before a storm. A time of even seas. I
never thought I'd describe the reign of the Serpent King thus. It was a
time of blood. Of domination. Of uncertain codes other than that the
Serpent did as he pleased and justified it later. But in hindsight that's
what it was. Predictable. Steady. A time with few surprises. A boat with
an even keel.

It all changed with a munch and a crunch. A presumptive routine slaughter
of a fledgling giant fresh to the pinnacle became anything but. Skeggi
feasted on lizard flesh that day and it was all over but for the clanking.
The calm was shattered. The storm broke.

Legion rose in this chaos (for real this time not just by dogmatic decree).
The age of invokers was shepherded in. Powerful relics of war rapidly
changed hands. Heralds equipped Warlords. A band of Lightwalkers were
slaughtered en mass. Even the Consortium was not spared as a one sided feud
between Skeggi and the Polymath kept the giant well fed. Werig prowled
about attacking indiscriminately with an agenda known only to he and his.
The Szkrech, an independent, rose, slaughtered according to his whimsy, and
vanished again. Szrevan got his clank back.

But none held sway for long.

The Mighty - As documented by Trillian Triffle, the Liberal Librarian

The Age of Invokers was marked by elemental magics flying about as
frequently as a spring rain. Everywhere you looked it was as if there were
a new invoker fresh to the pinnacle looking to make their mark. But the
most feared names in the land remained the notables of Warlords and Legion:

Szrevan, Skeggi, Werig.

All three took their turns bearing the title of Dragon. But in this era
they all shared something else: A common fate. Death without renewal. The
final sleep. You may have heard that Skeggi simply went home. It is true
he was tired. Awash in mages, beset by ice storms from all directions, and
with no one to share his favored meals. He was lonely. It is true. But he
did not simply go home. And Werig? What of Werig? A demon so dedicated to
his nefarious craft simply vanishes? No, like many things Legion the truth
is far more complex and veiled behind lairs of secrecy. The truth is that
both fell to Dogran's own hand. Such power is not without consequences.
And all pacts have two parties. The demons were not happy that Legion stood
by as their invasion stalled. As their prince, Baron Zero, fell at the
hands of scholars and bards. They demanded recompense. And what better
than two lieutenants? Let it be a lesson. Idle hands had best do the
devil's work if they wish to stay attached to arms.

And Serpent King himself? How did one so mighty fall? The Age of Invokers
did not treat him kindly I am afraid. Not his body. He was equal to the
task as ever. But his mind! Oh how his mind shattered. Gone were the days
of clashing confrontations with Shaghroth. The days of spirited bouts with
Tearea. As spellcasters flooded the martial scene Szrevan met them with
iron. And blow-by-blow, recall-by-recall, he grew increasingly unstable.
Bonfo, explorer extraordinaire, gave a chilling firsthand account of his
descent into madness. He claims to have been staking out Szrevan's lair. A
hobby he apparently was quite fond of. He waited hours for the Serpent King
and the opportunity he craved. When the draconian finally returned home
Bonfo was shocked to find him not alone. He raved to his companion about
the cowardice of mages and the unnatural and detrimental workings of their
magics. It seemed his Warlord vow had devolved into full-blown hatred. And
when Bonfo snuck a peek to see the partner in this discourse what did he
discover? Szrevan, lounging in his foyer, directed these comments at none
other than his own shed skin propped up in a chair! With each battle did
this sad state of affairs worsen. And with each battle the Serpent King's
precision diminished. Mistakes accumulated. Judgement clouded. Perhaps it
is the fate of all dragons to grow complacent, to become bound to their
lair, and to eventually fall to their lessers. In the end, Szrevan died. A
battle he could have won, an escape he could have made. Not taken. An
altar waiting for him to renew. Not taken. They say Lord Davarius raged at
the fall of his favored champion. That the heavens boomed with his
displeasure as the Serpent King was not given the post-mortem respect the
God of Blood thought his warrior was due by the common folk he terrorized.
For a time, the people quaked in fear that God himself would follow his
warrior into madness.

But like these mighty three, this too passed and is now but a note on the
page.

The Meek - As documented by Trillian Triffle, the Liberal Librarian

And the meek shall inherit the realm. What other option is there after the
mighty fall? A new breed is left in charge of the cabals.

New warlords of diminutive stature emerge and vie for the status of top
combatant. But none have proven worthy of the crown as of yet.

Legion leaves Iliandra as the lone declared member. She fights frequently,
flees quickly, and speaks eloquently. She describes Legion and their
mysterious ties to demons not as a burden but an opportunity. She invites
all who feel downtrodden to explore this unique boon and the benefits it
offers. On what specifically those benefits might be she has significantly
less to say. As she grows in skill and connections it is fair to wonder if
she intends to pursue the Dread title herself or just operate as the chief
recruiter for the next wave.

A flurry of new Knights roam the lands of late. Many were squired to
Ceridwel himself and the title of meek has largely suited them well. They
have certainly taken their collective lumps. None have been more prolific
than Savanti. This earnest elf has engaged all comers time and again. He
dreams of defending the white city and if dreams can be achieved through
effort alone then he is certain to achieve it. He may not be a natural but
few can match his determination. Slowly, the tide turns for him. His blood
may soak the forest floor but recently it is an increasingly mixed brew.
The Knights may have a contender in their midst.

Atop the heap sit the Keepers. And nobody would dare call them meek.
Indeed, Tiram and Peemo clashed with the mighty before their fall and held
their own. But after? They found themselves in a precarious position. The
Keepers fancy themselves the gears that turn the clock and keep the pendulum
swaying in its perpetual motion. But what happens when they become the
mighty? Sitting on high, holding the title of Dragon, they had none but
themselves to fell. The pendulum stilled. They looked to their leadership
for guidance and found it wanting. In its absence they set adrift into the
unknown. They had honorable bouts with Knights with nothing on the line.
They destroyed the belongings of the casual bystander. They tried their
hand at poetry (and did quite well!) . In the end, the loss of purpose was
too much for these warrior-poets and they receeded into the background as
well.

And to where from here? Absent dragons, absent leaders, absent members, the
cabals are near a blank slate. What shall the next era hold? Only time
will tell.

JUSTICE IS DEAD
---------------

The Justices claim to protect the three Cities from those who would
infringe upon the rights of others. They have not been successful, and
recent events are not situated to correct that failing.

In fact, the undead are not protected by their law, but the immortal patrons
of Justice yet permit the use of zombies and golems to enforce them. I
asked Lord Kedaleam of the matter and he said merely "Is there not currently
an undead Immortal leader?" For those unaware, he references the fallen
Paladin Solmundi, who denied his morals for the power of Blood. Hardly a
model for how a cabal ought to protect its citizenry. Yet it is the model
we have.

Questions remain unanswered: Is this the end of Peace is the Cities? Has
Justice been fully infiltrated by the new possessed Legion? Will the
golems be granted badges of their own and set free upon the streets as
enforcers? Who is really in charge, Kedaleam or Solmundi?

Witch's Rap II

I am the witch
in the goblin suit.
Welcome to my house
of ill repute.

Step right up, dear,
step right in
as I divine your name
in flame and wind.

What do I spy
in my scrying glass?
Why, your two lips
kissing my fat ass.

(Say it!)
Valindra, Valindra, VALIIIINDRA!

Fortune yeller,
Rhyme schemer,
Bad bitch
(Best believer her)

Old witch
here to teach you
all these manners
(please and thank you!)

& mind the door
when you come through.

Tell 'em all
Valindra sent you.

Scratch, rip.
Despair.

No click.
's not there.

Half life.
Ensnared.

Fully fit.
But with fear.

Tight knit.
Do I dare?

Hope lit.
Assumptions bared.

Twined minds.
We'll be a pair.

Scratch rip

Lah dee dah de-da dee dah de-da deet deet dee doo
Ah lah dee dah de-da dee dah de-da deet deet dee doo

When I was a young man visit Jim down on the farm
In the surrounding forest practiced all my fledgling charms
Then one day took a wrong turn darkness spread amongst the boughs
The huntsman set upon me to send me into my death throes
His devil horns they glistened like the black tip of his spear
I curled up tight into a ball could hardly move for fear

Now when I'm feeling frightened I just pull back from the world
I closed my eyes, drifted away into those crimson walls
And I saaaaaw you
Los-la my first siiight of you

The monsters they don't fade away cause Lolsa loves them too
They still growl and rend with mighty claws, their razor teeth still chew
But they don't seem so scary now her love is all around
I fight them off with fervor I can take them pound for pound
When I'm wiiiiith you
Los-la Iiiiiii need you

I may just be a mortal and I am so very small
But my love is endless it can fill those empty halls
If I could only find her know we'd reconcile our size
So I will keep on searching til the day of my demise
I close mmmmyyyy eyes
Los-la Iiiii'll find you

I searched the arcane towers but I never heard her name
All these old wise scholars met me with ridicule and shame
Their words cut worse than scimitars their laughter hurt my bones
I internalized derision be-fore waves of mocking tones
I close mmmmyyy eyes
Los-la Iiiii see you

I drift away to hallowed halls familiar and the same
Their words still drip with acid but now everything is changed
I walk myself straight out the door, this place holds no val-ue
I close mmmmyyy eyes
Los-la wheeeere are you?

They say she's an illusion but I know that isn't true
I'll search the whole Serin just to find a single clue
I close mmmmyyy eyes
Los-la Iiiii love you
Close yoooouur eyes
Los-la loves youuuu too

I Put on My Black Hat

And leave the door unlocked.
I smear my lips with blueberries
and autograph every book.
Little children rise
from their graves like flowers
to attend me. Hello, dear,
hello, hello--I greet them
with a witch's heart.
Here come the mourners
in a fine parade to dress
me for their party.
I stand on the table
and shock them with my tricks.
The roses reek of metal
and turn to knives in my fist.
I will not wait much longer.

Trillian says 'I give you, The Dragon's Stash - working title.'

Dwiggans closes his eyes momentarily.
A string of sausages suddenly appears.

Trillian says 'Well I once heard a tale about Sz-re-van.'
Trillian stomps his foot 3 times in rhythm.
Someone makes a man in back say 'Sz-re-van!'

Dwiggans gets a string of sausages.
Dwiggans gets a string of sausages.

Trillian says 'The realms most fearsome dra-con-i-an.'
Trillian stomps his foot 3 times in rhythm.
Someone makes a barmaid say 'Con-i-an!'

Trillian says 'Back in the day he was a lizard man.'
Someone makes a drunk in the corner stands and say 'Li-zard man!''

Trillian says 'Crawling on the ground he could hardly stand.'
Someone makes the crowd say 'Hard-ly stand!'

Trillian says 'Well he got real mad looking at halfling feet.'
Someone makes the crowd say 'Half-ling feet!'

Trillian says 'But gaining height was the opponent that he could not beat.'
The crowd says 'Could not beat!'

Trillian says 'So he prayed to the Gods saying please oh please!'
Someone makes the crowd say 'Please oh please!'

Trillian says 'And they transformed his body to fulfill his need.'
Someone makes the crowd say 'Fill his need!'
Someone makes patrons from other rooms run in and say 'Fill his needs!'

Trillian pauses to take a sip of his drink.

Trillian says 'Well I heard another tale about Sz-re-van.'
Trillian says 'The realms most powerful dra-con-i-an.'
Someone makes the crowd say 'Con-i-an'

Trillian says 'Now he fights everybody just to prove he's tall.'
Someone makes the crowd say 'Prove he's tall!'

Valindra taps one foot along to the rhythm.

Trillian says 'And sure as poop smells he can whip them all!'
Someone makes the crowd say 'Whip them all!'

Trillian says 'But if you look real close his upper lip's still bare.'
Someone makes the crowd say 'Lip's still bare!'

Vikka the serving girl walks in.

Trillian says 'Scales show your reflection if you care to stare.'
Someone makes the crowd say 'Care to stare!'

Draelar is OBVIOUSLY intoxicated... he burps loudly and passes out!

Trillian says 'Well he got real mad with no facial hair.'
Someone makes the crowd say 'No facial hair!'

Trillian says 'Gazing in the mirror and brooding in his lair.'
Someone makes the crowd say 'In his lair!'

Trillian says 'He ran back to Gods with a hairy new ask.'
Someone makes the crowd say 'Hairy new ask!'

Trillian says 'They said to find the halfling who is the Master of Stashe.'
Someone makes the crowd say 'Master of Stashe!'

Trillian says 'Now he spends all his days chasing after Bonfo.'
Someone makes the crowd say 'After Bon-fo!'

Trillian says 'Trying to steal the moustache that he cannot grow!'
Someone makes the crowd explodes laughing and say 'Can not grow!'

Trillian covers the room with golden dust.
Trillian rises off the ground.
Trillian bows deeply.

Valindra stands up.

Szrevan whistles appreciatively.

Valindra leaps to stubby emerald feet and applauds rather vigorously.

Dwiggans blinks innocently.

Draelar looks at himself.

Trillian says 'Did you like it?'

Szrevan says to Trillian 'Quite an effort there, young pixie.'

Draelar says 'whhat ahhMmM ii cjoOovERehD inNn?'
Draelar claps at Trillian's performance.

Valindra says to Trillian 'Triffle, you have a gift.'

Trillian says 'I confess it's a fair bit of extrapolation...'

Draelar says 'tHhaT WAhsSz ghReat!'

Szrevan roars 'I am flattered that you deemed me worthy enough for a song.'

Draelar says 'hHOow diD YOou LEArnNn tao ZSsiInNngh?'

Trillian says 'Why you are the center of events my friend!'
Draelar says 'ii ahlwaysSz waNTEhd tO sSsiInNng!'

Valindra says to Szrevan 'I shall include it in the Mystique, with your permission.'

Vikka the serving girl walks south.

Trillian says 'I'm sure a proper ballad will be written some day.'

Szrevan yells out his warcry.
Szrevan yells 'Scorch the plains, burn the skies, revel in Fire of my desire!'

Trillian says 'But a tavern song is more starting stalk.'

Szrevan bows before Trillian.
Szrevan roars 'I am impressed.'

Trillian beams broadly!

Szrevan roars 'Our kind is not so blessed with the wit of the words.'
Szrevan roars 'But I can appreciate those who are.'

Trillian says 'We all have our gifts.'

I sit at my window at the top of the Rest
Watching trivial sins from the self proclaimed best
Lackadaisical Knights who can't finish a quest
I seriously wish that I wrote this in jest

Y'all so devoid of mysteries
Heralds scribing lost histories
While current events
Achieve pinnacle banalites

But that's alright. It's fine
You don't need the divine
Just come down to the tavern
and have a good time

Stay awhile
Hear a rhyme
Have a drink
Maybe nine

Then when your courage is mustered
And you're feeling full of drunken bluster
Find the pixie in the back
Tell him secrets, trust his tact

For the power that's mine
I wield for you
I can weave a tale
That others take as true

A hero, a fool, a martyr, a shrew
Whatever your desire I can transform you
Or if not yourself perhaps a friend?
Or maybe a rival needs a shameful end?

So now do you see?
Be all you can be
You don't need practice
You just need me

Use Trillian's Transcriptions for all your agrandizing and defamatory needs!

First, mentally segment the space before you into 6 rectangles, 4 equals
and 2 of half height. Allocate two segments centrally one above the other.
Another segment each to the left and right aligning their midpoint to the
intersection of the two central segments. The half segments reside one each
above the sides.

The central segments are of utmost import. The closer is where the work
shall occur. The further holds a stand for your primary reference. The
stand must be of an angle between sixty and seventy degrees from level.
This permits reading without placing strain upon the neck while also
permitting annotations at need. A slight rise is permissible if desired but
no more than a single hand's span.

Find the center point of the foremost segment. Extend a mental line
five-and-forty degrees to the center of each half segment. These are the
locations of two identical light sources of preference. The angle of
illumination preserves straight line focus while avoiding the pitfall of
pulling attention to the periphery. Similarly, the use of twin sources is
of paramount import to reduce the dancing of shadows that can distract the
mind.

Place an example sheet of the parchment to be used in the foremost segment
in central position. Two pins with a crossing jig should be affixed about
each corner with a horizontal slope not to exceed one part vertical to three
horizontal. The lower jigs shall be fully secured whereas the upper jigs
use a hole-and-hook design to allow latching and unlatching. This design
allows for the proper securing of the object parchment against unintentioned
disturbances. Blank parchment is placed in the segment to the side of the
non-dominant hand. The most recently completed page is laid upon the
segment to the side of the dominant hand. The completed stack, binding
mechanism optional, resides laterally to the outside of the freshest work.
This creates an optimal flow of parchment transfer through the process of
procurement, transcription, drying, and storage. Ample space is provided
for the placement of stack weight stones below the side segments during
parchment transfer.

Only once the desk is thusly arranged is one prepared to set about the
serious business of recording History.

Now, on to the merits and complications of various viscosities of ink.

- Avenar, Chronicler of History
Probably.

With Believer's Like These
- By Trillian Triffle

There once was a talented monk.
With a predilection for winding up drunk.
He'd drink with his lunch.
He'd drink when he punched.
And let me tell you he does punch a bunch!

Then there was this wandering priest.
Inclined to mysticism born of the east.
Balancing all things is Olyn's way
Except the number of words you both say.
I tell you he'll ramble for days!

Well these two very different creatures did meet.
The monk the priest did entreat.
I converted a delinquent!
I was fooled my a miscreant!
The lesson is read the fine print

Hullo to all ye meat lovers out there! I wanted to invite ye to come try
some o' me hand-crafted sausages! I've been workin' up a whole new menu o'
the finest sausages ye ever tasted. It's me dream to one day open up me own
sausage stall but until then I'll be makin' 'em wherever me stubby little
legs take me. Have yerself a gander at me menu and let me know what ye wish
to try. And if yer fixin' fer somethin' not on me menu, just say the word
and I'll consider it!

BIG DWIG'S SAVORY SAUSAGES 'N' SUCH --- THE BEST O' THE WURST!

Bratwurst - the real deal. Pork sausage with spicy mustard and sauerkraut.
Bratwurst is fit fer every occasion.

Thueringer - like bratwurst but longer and thinner. Goes well with firm
bread. Perfect fer celebratin' a hard-fought victory.

White Sausage - veal and bacon pork sausage with sweet mustard. The ideal
sausage fer keepin' yer wits about ye.

Blood Sausage - pork sausage mixed with pig blood. This sausage fuels yer
inner fire durin' battle.

Raknos Blood Sausage - LIMITED RELEASE - ground up meat o' a spider-like
critter, includin' legs and abdomen. Extra juicy!

Nuernberger - miniature pork sausage made from tendon, rind, bacon, and
blended with marjoram. These sausages are great fer breakfast or
preparation in general.

Garlic Sausage - pork sausage with garlic. Best fer keepin' the vampires at
bay!

Sadness Sausage - pork sausage infused with tears and heartache. Good fer
bolsterin' the spirit after a tragedy's befallen ye.

Kielbasa - pork sausage infused with garlic, pepper, and marjoram. A
behemoth sausage capable o' fillin' up a fire giant!

Humbly,
Dwiggans, Sausage Smith o' Serin

Announcing Trillian's Transcriptions!

Have you ever wanted to capture a moment but couldn't find the words?
Trillian's Transcriptions is here for you!

Whether it is a recounting of an epic duel, a ballad of an ancient evil
slain, or a confession of love that needs just a touch more polish
Trillian's Transcriptions has you covered.

They say a picture is worth a million words so commission your very own
million word* masterpiece today and hang it in your lair with pride!

Ballads! Poems! Tales! Yarns and Songs! Trillian's Transcriptions has
them all! Satisfaction guaranteed**.

See you in the Taverns,

- Trillian Triffle

*Price may vary by word conunt. Trillian's Transcriptions requires proof of
funds prior to acceptance of any eork of epic or greater length
**Assessment based upon the eye of the original beholder

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| Good for Man and Beast! || Dr. || Secret 15 grams |
| || Koethar!|| + a dash of love! |
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| |'---------'| |
| '-.........-' |
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| ---------------------------------------------- |
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| "Taste like Dwarf!" - Skeggi |
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| "So good I kill for it" - Militha |
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| "I quit" - Tiram |
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| *May cause dry mouth and excessive hair growth. Not approved by the Guild of Healers. |
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\\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------//

Meditations
===========
The firelight dances behind consciousness.
The dancing flame follows the flow of thought.
Thought fuels the flame.
The question presents itself.
Does one drive the other?
Or does neither?
Does one quell the other?
Or does neither?

The Evocation of Fire
=====================
Empowering the Ether to evoke the Element of Fire is perhaps the second
most simple application of Magic that young students thereof may undertake.
The raw and dramatic nature of flame makes it readily available to be
summoned by a relative novice. Nonetheless, it takes a great deal of effort
and study to fully master and control this summoned combustion.

Recent research conducted by the Mystics of Arcana suggest that manipulating
the Ether to manifest in such a manner may be accomplished by directing one's
will to align the proper elemental chakras. One must keep in mind that
different schools or instructors may have different terms for this process,
but the underlying principles are the same. Generally the further opposed
the alignments are, the more difficult the spell and the harder one must
concentrate their will upon the proper alignment.

The easiest flame evokation is the lesser flame profusion. It is so simple
to accomplish it is frequently the first demonstration of magical ability
a young mage will accomplish, many times without instruction or intent. A
being with sufficient magical ability may manifest a lesser flame profusion
by the simple act of aligning the dominant chakra one hexcontade in the
leeward direction, and the lesser chakra 12 grads anticlockwise.

That is just one example of the many evokations of Fire that a well trained
mage may employ. As noted previously, more powerful flame spells will
require greater concentration and finesse. Also, this is just one method
to interpret the delicate arts of Fire Magicks.

Items of Inquiry
================
Q: Does spell mastery add to the damage potential of the casted spell?
A: Generally no. Spell mastery allows one to cast spells without losing
concentration, mostly.

Q: If a weapon cannot be removed or uncursed, is death the only escape from
holding it?
A: No, there are potions of weapon freeing sold by Echuir in Seringale that
will allow the removal of the weapon.

Q: What is the final step in forging armor at the Grimforge Blacksmith?
A: After the correct sequence of hammers and grips have been applied on the
anvil, one must remove it from the apparatus and take it to the cooling pool
to the south. Placing the fireforged item within the pool will quench it and
complete the forging process.

Open Question: Is there an item of relative obscurity that you find useful?
Send your answers to the Consortium.

Contemplations
==============
An ancient mage guild has returned to Serin. The Psionicists walk the lands
once more. Though the intricacies of the mind is certainly of great
importance to this author, the specific nuance of these new 'focusers'
poses a great deal of intrigue.

The greatest question is what draws them as distinct from the Illusionists?
From an outside perspective, there seems to be a common thread of mental
assailment between the two guilds. Indeed, one must wonder if the
Psionicists diverged from the Illusionists recently, or if there is a wholly
separate path of Magic to them.

Already the Psionicists are being called to the Cabals of Serin. It would
stand to reason, therefore, that the Gods believe these new arrivals are up
to the task of upholding the most fervent of ideals. One would assume that
the Psionicists are not capable of hoodwinking the Immortals with their
mental powers, but the question does remain without a definitive answer.

These Contemplations complied by Wylsin Plindane, Savant of the Arcane

A Little Literature on Lightning

Electricity occurs naturally when there is an imbalance between two
entities and a conductive channel exists between them. It is, at its most
granular level, the flow of electrons from a negatively charged entity to a
positively charged one until equilibrium is achieved. Now, take this
concept and amplify it by many orders of magnitude. Then, consider
achieving this equilibrium instantaneously and you have lightning! An
immensely powerful jolt of energy, guaranteed to wake up even the sleepiest
of Serin. It is the most volatile, least predictable, the flashiest, and
most spectacular of the elements (this is a fact! Not a heavily biased
opinion)! Lastly, it is the essence of life, in a way; there does not exist
a living being absent an electrical current.

Dearest Consortium Colleagues,

I write of a riveting research expedition I took as part of my mission to
bring this curse reversal to fruition.

It started with a conversation I had with Avenar at the Rest about the
nature of my curse - the fungal forest, the thaddlewhack, the rhyming of my
speech hence the need to magically trace my words in the air. Avenar nodded
with a look of understanding and recounted his tales of traveling to the
Ethereal Plane.

During his travels to the Ethereal Plane, Avenar detected the faint essence
of many other realms, including a fungal forest. The moment he said that I
rocketed out of my chair with frazzled hair, cracked my head on the ceiling,
then fell back down, reeling. I couldn't believe it! After years of
research this was the most promising lead I'd heard. Avenar continued that
he was experimenting with ways to harness energy from these other realms.
Just then, Trillian darted into the room, having eavesdropped the entire
discussion. He suggested we ought to pay ourselves a visit to the Ethereal
Plane. How could I refrain? Could we find ourselves a thaddlewhack to
detain? This adventure must not be in vain! I felt like a young gnome with
a sweet poplolly cane!

Outside the Rest, Avenar opened a portal to the Ethereal Plane and we
followed his lead. It was like a dream state. There was an odd familiarity
with the surroundings but too vague to put a finger on it. Without further
ado, Avenar began channeling the essence of the fungal forest. My home. Lo
and behold, he managed to find it again and called out to Trillian to open a
gate. Trillian, without a moment's delay, opened a gate to the fungal
forest. My heart ached at the sight of home but we couldn't lose focus on
the task at hand. Avenar closed his eyes in deep concentration and
suddenly... A nasty little thaddlewhack arrived! Trillian placed a glass
door around us and closed his gate, trapping the thaddlewhack! I stunned it
with a quick zap and bagged it with a sack. We had ourselves a thaddlewhack
to bring back!

Back in Serin, thaddlewhack in sack, I engineered an arcane device of
creature-power-extract. I knew this little imp could reverse my curse but I
couldn't trust it. I gathered the gaskets, pipes, and gears of different
types and began to fashion this contraption. Once completed it stood
roughly the size of me! I popped open the lid, dumped the thaddlewhack in,
and watched the gears begin to spin.

It sparked, vibrated, and whirred with a low hum. And then... My tongue
was my own! I could speak freely! I wasn't compelled to rhyme, really!
But it only worked within a small radius around the apparatus. Trillian, a
crazed look in his eyes, darted around the machine with zeal, shrinking it
smaller than a fledgling cockatiel! It shrank quickly, nearly disappearing,
to just the right size for a stylish earring!

I grabbed the gadget and clipped it to my ear, enveloping myself in the
curse-reversing sphere. Avenar and Trillian gave me a cheer and we
celebrated our achievements at the Rest with a beer.

Extra! Extra! The Consortium seeks magic users for an exciting research
opportunity!
Are you magically inclined? Divinely powered? Necroticly burdened?
Were you birthed into this world with goblin staff clutched tightly to baby
breast?
Congratulations! You are a prime candidate to contribute to this exciting
research endeavor!

Head Researcher Trillian Triffle is attempting to gain insight into the very
act of learning magic itself by charting the rates at which magical practitioners
such as yourself advance in their craft.

Everybody's favorite and oft neglecting cantrip, continual light, was
selected for this study precisely because it is frequently ignored.
Simply document and submit your progress on your way to mastery of this
spell. Include any pertinent details to your advancement. Please restrict
any learning aids to a singular state such as banner, boost, or unaided.
The lights themselves will help you count your progress!

As many references points as possible are desired but the most common are
your starting point, achievement of being learned in the spell, the edge of
mastery, and mastery itself.

For an example, here is Trillian's very own report:

Race: Pixie
Learning aids: None
Additional Circumstances: Wearing a Robe of the Archmagi and two lucky
trinkets
Results:
From 1 session with Ertyrien to learned: 630 lights summoned
From learned to the edge of mastery: 2791 lights summoned
From the edge of mastery to mastery: 106 lights summoned

If you are truly want to go above and beyond the call include how many times
you lose concentration and/or record your progress against how lucky you
feel at the moment.

The Consortium appreciates your input to this thrilling line of research!

Your aggregator-in-chief,

Trillian Triffle

To all ye fledglin' smiths out there,

I wish to share some forgin' knowledge with ye. Thought best to pass it
along by way o' scroll. To start, ye'll want to collect fifty lumps o' ore
fer whatever it is ye wish to focus on. Fifty lumps, no fewer, is needed
fer the highest quality armor. Ye'll be wantin' gold fer hittin' true,
silver fer hittin' hard, mithril fer protection against the mages and
clerics, and platinum to make ye more stout. Now ye'll want to use a gem o'
the same level as the pinnacle rank o' any Serin guild (fiftieth). To use
somethin' less would be a waste o' precious ore. Whichever gem ye choose,
just know that yer forged armor will take on its qualities, but none o' its
beneficial properties. In other words, if yer usin' a rare gem, ye'll be
forgin' rare armor; a unique gem fer unique armor; an invisible gem fer
invisible armor, so on and so forth! It also be worth notin' that if yer
lookin' to engrave part o' a set onto yer forge work, which ye can indeed
do, ye'll be wantin' to forge with a rare gem as that's a requirement o' the
engravin' process!

Now, on to the actual forgin' process.

In the Furnace Room in Grimforge be a sign ye can read with some o' these
details but I'll do me best at explainin' it meself. Ye'll want to load up
all fifty lumps into the furnace along with yer gem o' choice. Once ye
close the furnace, ye'll see smoke come a pipin' out. Ye'll want to open
the furnace the moment that tenth puff o' smoke comes out. No more, no
less. Once ye open it, it'll form into an ingot. Take the ingot west to
the anvil o' yer choice, dependin' on which piece o' armor ye wish to forge.
Ye can choose between helmets, chest plates, arm plates, leg plates, and
girths. Read the plaque to tell ye how many hammer strikes and how many
tong grips ye need. The order o' hammers and grips doesn't matter... All
that matters is that ye do the correct total fer each and that yer timin' is
true. Yer timin' between hammers and grips should be to a five count. Best
to give yer undivided attention to this part. But don't ye worry if ye
mistime a hammer or grip, it won't impact yer result much. But ye go
mistimin' left and right, well that be another matter. Just remember - five
count. Once ye finish that step, take yer fireforged piece off the anvil
and drop it in the pool just south. No matter how perfectly ye strike, this
step be truly a gamble. Ye may wind up with somethin' beautiful, gilded
even, ye may not. Not even me dwarven blood and steady hand can ensure
consistent outcomes.

If ye don't like what ye've just forged, ye can always throw it back in the
furnace to recycle it. What ye get in return is a heavier lump o' ore o'
the same kind, and yer gem back. The ore is equivalent to two-thirds o'
what ye used in yer original armor, far as I can tell. So if yer recyclin'
a piece o' fifty-ore armor, ye'll get back a big lump o' ore worth thirty
three regular lumps, meanin' ye need only collect another seventeen lumps o'
ore to have another go at forgin' a fine piece o' armor. Saves ye lots o'
time in the mines, recyclin' does.

Now, have yerself a sausages with a horn o' ale and set off fer the mines!

Regards,
Dwiggans, Blade o' the Order o' Light, Sausage Smith o' Serin

Where, oh where has The Szkrech gone? Where, oh where could he be?

The Szkrech made quite an entrance to our realm. He made quick work of
Serin's finest. And to what end? He served no one. The Caster with no
Master. He picked his victims at random and quickly became more feared than
any. And just as quickly as he made his name he vanished without a trace.
Rumor has it he met his end when he lost a bet to Fanatiel. This is merely
hearsay, but perhaps The Szkrech can answer for himself should he return one
day.

Serin patiently, if not fearfully, awaits his return.

Ravia the Mistress Bard, Lore Keeper of Tragedy

Farewell to my tragic Lore Keeper:
a little spider, burrowed deeper.
Now, without warning,
I'm here in mourning--
though by now you know I'm a weeper.

Suite Obit

For Szrevan

I.
I bid farewell to the Serpent King
And all the hand-wringing he would bring.
Of dragons and slith--
What else did I myth?--
Serin's fat lady is ready to sing.

II.
So long to Serin's toughest Warlord.
Dead and gone--but, hey--he's not bored.
He clanked into the room
To everyone's doom
But more tenor he couldn't afford.

III.
If you're looking for a sign, this is it--
You were feared, now you're gone & O shit--
You kicked your career
Right in the rear,
Chased off by a recalling quasit.

IV.
If I'm bitter it's only because
I watched you turn 'is' into 'was.'
Consider this a warning:
I'm bad at mourning--
What's worse than a witch with a buzz?

Tiram the Wrath of Nature

O, Farewell to Tiram the Keeper.
Of cells, he was sort of a sleeper--
And then so forlorn
Re: absent Fenlorn--
Be sure to say, "hi!" to the Reaper.

Skeggi the Volcano of Infinite Rage

Resatimm did want Skeggi smash,
On this mandate Skeggi was brash,
Intrepid was the giant, his ambitions never pliant,
His arrival in Serin quite a splash.

He toppled the Serpent King,
Ego crushed by fiery sting,
Skeggi had a huge pair, shat the Serpent's lair,
About his feats taverns sing.

"Elf taste lot good", he claimed,
His hunger never tamed,
No love for the veggie, only meat could sate Skeggi,
Gone home for good, ever famed.

Announcing serials!

This section is shall house longer form stories that deal directly with the
inhabitants of Serin. They are intended that augment and expand on the
lore. They won't necessarily be complete but can be thought of as dramatic
treatments on pertinent moments in time and place.

Some will even be true!

Longer stories may continue across multiple issues of the Mystique. We do
so hope you enjoy!

(And if you would like to scribe a serial yourself just contact your
friendly curator, the esteemed Trillian Triffle!

At First Sight
- By Trillian Triffle

Tiamat stretched her considerable greatness out across her dragon hoard. She
breathed leisurely in cyclic fashion as she lounged. Out one set of
nostrils, in through another, rolling the pattern in a wave through her five
heads. Ten eyelids drooped even though she was not tired. She rarely left
her lair these days. She wasn't bored per se. Just... Unstimulated. She
reached out through her connection to all chromatic dragons to scan the
realm. This was her main, and arguably only, interface with the world in
recent years. As usual, she started with the ancients and as usual they
were just as dormant as she. Next she skimmed from lair to lair, sky to
sky, searching for any source of potential amusement. She rode a blizzard
with a white for a time. Bathed with a blue. She intended to stay with a
fledgling green just long enough to taste the deer it had caught when a
rustle of movement in the forest caught the youngling's attention. The
drama was short lived. A scant moment later a skeleton emerged from the
undergrowth. Small. Weak. Disappointing. Tiamat began shifting her focus
to the next dragon when the green and the skeleton locked eyes. The
skeleton's eye sockets were empty. Perfectly ordinary. Yet they pulled in
Tiamat's gaze. Not the green's. Hers. Twin blue fires burned within them
and the world exploded in a fractal of ocular perception. A thousand pairs
of eyes between a thousand pairs of mirrors reflecting at each other into
near infinity. Tiamat stared into the eyes of legion. An undead horde. It
was as disorienting as it was familiar. She was used to staring out. Not
in. And through it all, behind it all, those eyes of blue fire. Also
staring in. A dragon horde. For the first time in days, perhaps weeks,
Tiamat lifted all five heads. "What is this?" Red hissed softly, craning
about to Black. But then, before she thought to sieze control, the young
green spun gracefully and shattered the skeleton with an easy flick of its
tail. And just like that, it was over. Gone.
Blue licked her lips subtlety. "Amusssing..." She purred while resettling
onto her gold.

The Sausage Experience - A Haiku by Dwiggans
======================
First Place

Grind the pork. Extrude.
Popping. Hissing. Heavy breath.
Bite. Chew. Gulp. Wheeze. Sweat.

Fire and Air, the Perfect Balance by Peemo
=================================
Second Place (tie)

Fire must be allowed to breathe,
just like any other living thing.
Heat and air makes more heat
which needs more air to create more heat
which needs more air...
A never-ending cycle of energy,
of a passionate and driven life.
If there is too little air, the fire suffocates.
If there is too much, it is snuffed out.
Just enough, just enough,
just enough to keep it going.

Air, too, has its own cycle
which must be helped along by heat.
Whether the flame is present
or as far away as the sun,
the ground around the air is made warm,
which warms the air
which causes it to rise.
The air becomes colder the higher it goes
the air becomes heavier the colder it gets,
causing the air to come back down towards the heat of the flame,
completing the cycle and starting again.

Witch's Rap III by Valindra (featuring Trillian)
===============

I am the witch
In the goblin sack.
I've gained a few pounds,
But I'm still a snack.

Come on in, girl.
Step right up.
I've got enough tea
To fill your cup.

I'll read the leaves
Or count your cards,
But first pay tribute
To the Queen of Bards.

What does it sound like
When you say my name?
Number one bitch
Scrying in this game:

Valindra, Valindra, Valiiiiiindra!

That old witch of Acadia,
Gimbol's garden lady, yuh,
More hats than heads,
Do you think she's afraid of ya?

One more time like a third attack--
Watch out, dears. Olgarda's back--

But I'm still

Valindra, Valindra, Valiiiiiindra!

(Second Place (tie))
Trillian Triflle rollin' by her side
A merry young fellow is diminutive size

Wait stop
Slow
Presence grows
His soul aglow
Next thing you know

His voice ensnares
His tales prepare
The inevitable to take root
Through crust and soot

Piercing veils
Following trails
Ignoring wails

Til there's just one door more
To your core
Let me in

The Return by Rahamex
==========
Second Place (tie)

After a long time away from this land
A familiar figure returns with nothing in hand.
The realms have changed with new mysteries
Built upon the land's rich history.
I went back to the mansion, said hello to the butler,
Danced with sweet Bella, then took a bloody shower
I travelled through the forest, came upon a dirt road
And found a hungry adventurer inside Shadow Grove
A crystal took me to a galaxy away, away and far
Where I saw a supernova and stood upon the first star.
I have journeyed on my own, trying to discover information and lore
But with help from the Heralds, I have learned so much more.
As we all travel through Serin, the prospect of death is ever close
From hunger, from thirst, from creatures, from ghosts
There is a beauty in nature alongside fighting and violence
But quite often I am the only one here, as I journey in silence
But sometimes when I return back to the realms, I see
A place to fight, to gather, to socialize - your own community.
Its hard sometimes to travel alone
But as I return, it still feels like home.

We Sisters Three by Ilromie
================
Third Place (tie)

Elemental forces our pedigree
Trined together were we
Powerful, curious, carefree
Now we are two: one absentee.

Fire burns hot and laden
with visions of lava and raven
What is left now to trade in
to defeat the demons? She's shaken.

Quite and serene, there's another
With patience matched by no other
Her grace led us to discover,
But this Paradigm we cannot recover.

Small in stature yet fully grown
The wind blows her far from her home
Quick and daring, vicious to the bone
'Ware the words she might intone.

We sisters three in power united
Cast flames and spells farsighted
Will this world be blighted or lighted?
Three could say, two are less clearsighted.

The Wind by Avenar
========
Third Place (tie)

Upon the wind is murder's intent
With eyes of red, void of repent
A song that only I can hear
Filled with malice, death, and fear
They sweep across the endless plain
A demon army that shall remain
Trapped between the now and past
Of battles lost and vengeance cast
They seek the end of our dear home
We shall resist and write our tome
Together friends, we will complete
The dreadful army's sound defeat
And in the wake of battle's sound
See the path that we have found
Alone we are but fighting few
United we can build anew
Shade made light, the world can cope
For once the wind shall carry hope

The Nine Pillars by Foggledonk
================
Third Place (tie)

I wax poetic of the pillars nine,
While each has its Scholars, only three I claim mine.

The pillar Fundamental helps us understand,
Different methods of travel across our fine land.

Arcane is quite fitting for one such as me,
Meddling in magic powerful as can be.

Physical stands concretely apart from the rest,
With tangible objects primarily addressed.

Studies of Religion span time unknown,
Acolytes of Gods whose powers they hone.

Warfare is suited for those who would write,
The recounting of battles both magic and might.

The pillar of Tragedy is a most somber one,
Documenting the dead when their spirit is done.

Literature is vast, its works unending,
Tales of glory in language mind-bending.

Archiving precedent, the bedrock of History,
Events of our past no longer a mystery.

The pillar of Myth, last but not least,
Fables of man, Immortal, and beast.

Each pillar comprises deep knowledge therein,
The Consortium scribes eagerly, no tome left too thin.

The Serin Mystique, Volume 16, Issue 1