The Maren Jars Tales

[hobbknacass]

~Cave of Mad Design, Tragedy at Blackwatch~

It'd been some time since I'd gotten back into the saddle as it were. Been restin' for many months formulatin' some grand plan which never came to fruition. As I exited the Dyad on the sixteenth day of the fifth month, I saw a particularly interesting sight. About a dozen people pilin' out of a vardo, grumbling and castin' all manner of magic. Suddenly I see some familiar faces, the great warrior Geist and a friend o mine named Nina Troublefoot. I'd seen a few others mixed in that I'd travelled with once or twice, seemed to be a good group. They beckoned me to come with 'em, they sought the lands of Perfidus it seems. A hellish land like no other, many who go there do not return, however if one such as myself wanted to prove any manner of worth, it's one of the few places where I could do such a thing. I decided to take over the group and help guide 'em to Perfidus. Only issue is, we travelled the whole core for the better part of the day, paying the Vistani troves of coins, but we couldn't find any mist pathway to Perfidus, the mists blocked us out entirely. After meeting up on the island of Ghastria, we'd come to the conclusion the lands of Hell were no longer an option, so we sought other places.

Amidst the bickering, grumbling and joking, I heard someone mention the Akiri temple of Thoth... the island of Naillat... the Curst Keep in Hazlan... but in my arrogance I thought none of these would do. Then, I heard, in the faintest of a whisper one who called out 'Blackwatch...?'. I felt in that moment that it was possible with the host we had, despite in my ignorance I'd not seen the better half of them fight, let alone knew where they stood on going to the demonic place. I'd been to the camp known as 'Blackwatch' a few times. Everytime I'd end up having to bring a friend of mine out of there over my shoulder, or vice versa. The place is crawling with negative energy and fiendish elements. The men and women of Blackwatch appear to have been some sort of bandit group that had made a pact with demonic forces, that is evident in how they act, look and fight. The average bandit of blackwatch has skin of stone, blood turned to near black with foul corruptive energies, they'd be considered cultists if ever I were to classify some. There's hundreds of these lads, and without capable warriors, casters, healers, and a great bloody trapsmith, the camp is no place to 'visit', even if great treasures are buried there.

We gathered in the entrance of the woods, just across the bridge at Edrigan in Dementlieu. I felt a bit nervous, but I mustered courage as the blessings and wards were cast upon us. Shortly after our magic users finished, myself and the monk Gom lead the charge in. Immediately I could sense something was wrong, what normally would be a place teaming with the 'grunts' of Blackwatch remained empty, not a soul in sight. (If you can say those poor saps have any soul left.) We ventured deeper in, I had initially thought that someone had already come through and cleared the place out, perhaps the Port-A-Lucine Red Vardo, but nay... I was quite wrong. As we arrived in a deeper portion of the woods, I could finally see our quarry. Dozens of armed men, coupled with demonically corrupted hounds. These hounds appeared vicious, infused with fire and blood, like a true demon of the Abyss. We proceeded, clearing out dozens with little issue, that was... until we reached the cave mouth. As our trap-smith, Nina, began to open the door, I noticed on the cliff face above us, numerous enemies began to appear. I acted quickly, and charged into them, but I fell right into their trap.

Poison and acid began to rain onto us, demonic casters began to appear practically out of thin air, along with dozens more hounds and grunt warriors charging into us. We slew them one by one, but more appeared to be coming every second. I commanded that we must head into the cave, which glowed with a red light unmistakable to be from demonic energies, but unless we wished to be surrounded, we had little choice. As we charged into the cave, there were a dozen warriors waiting for us. I'd managed to hold the line and slay many, but eventually I went down myself, and the rest of our band had to destroy the vile bandits. After recouping, we began our strategic planning. However, I noticed immediately that our main warder, the warrior priest Geist, was no where to be seen. Someone claimed that the mists had pulled him out of the camp behind us, but this was not a good sign. The group wished to continue, and I stayed with them, better to fight with them, hopefully helping if I can, than run outside and experience a horrid fate, strength in numbers, and I did not wish for my negligence to get the others killed.

After our casters renewed their wards, we proceeded deeper into the cave... I kept getting an eerie feeling, but we entered the first room and quickly dealt with our foes, slaying about two dozen grunts and demonic hounds. We proceeded into the next room carefully, my heart skipped several beats as my eyes witnessed the countless enemies before us. Before I was consumed by utter terror, I mustered enough strength to get my bearings and give out commands to attack the enemy mages first. What before me was something I had not imagined. Dozens of men in a such a small cave, half of them clearly practitioners of black magics, and the other half clearly skilled warriors, ready for combat. The cultist mages appeared already well warded, defensive magics covered them, and the warriors appeared to have already entered into their aggressive stances of attack. I helped the front, charging into the cultists and holding them back, giving commands for the others to attack the mages. My calls fell upon deaf ears, others made similar calls, but none were heard.
 One by one I saw my companions be slain by the foul touch of the heretic cultist mages. I charged forward after slaying the last cultist that stood before me and a mage, putting myself between the mage and another cultist before I was imbued with a negative energy touch, I could feel my life force being drained from my body. I managed to cut down at least one mage before I was surrounded and they peppered me with negative energy and force bolts...

I was against a wall, holding my wounds barely together, attempting to get up, I could see one by one my remaining companions fall, their sounds of pained death filling the cave. I was terrified, all I had left was to hope that Heironeous would grant me a quick death. I have seen many horrors in the lands of the mists, but I'd not witnessed dozens of well trained warriors defeated so easily, I worried my fate would have ended there, and for a time, it did. Nina Troublefoot had managed to run around, using her pistols to gun down the remaining mages, but in turn one of her shots hit me in the chest,m apparently slaying me, which likely explains why I do not remember how exactly the rest of the cave was cleared out. When I awoke, I saw most of our group on their feet, but three were slain on the ground. I heard mixed feelings on the matter, but I was surprised to hear calls to continue deeper into the cave. I knew that only death awaited those of us who remained if we continued, so Nina and myself quickly picked up our fallen comrades and bolted out of there as quick as we could. I could hardly recognize them... some were missing limbs... intestines... some had their skin almost melted off their skin, one had their eyes gouged out, a massacre...

As we exited the cave and entered the outskirts of the bandit encampment, I witnessed what I had feared. Night had fallen, and hundreds more of these bandits and their demonic hounds now wandered the woods. Nina and I used what little resources we had to conceal ourselves and fled back to Edrigan. Shortly thereafter, the rest of our group arrived, but they had stated they had tried to fight this large group of bandits... a death wish if you ask me. We headed back to Port-A-Lucine as quick as we could, eventually I arrived at the Ezrite Church and revived the companion I had brought with me, with the help of one called Adom. Sufficed to say, I hope that each one of us learned a few lessons about such ventures again. We may be adventurers, people that live off the land, but some go to such places... for 'fun'. I would seek to only return to such a place to cleanse it of its vile nature, and slay the demonic enemies that lay there, but to go there merely for treasure or what some would call entertainment? I call that insanity.

Such a venture has left its mark on me, I have fallen endless times in combat in the core, to man, beast, demon, fish, bug, even the water, but I will not forget such a venture. I have cleared the camp known as Blackwatch before, with as few as five adventurers, but I can assure you, it is not numbers or the hearts of heroes that wins battles, but by the application of strategy, and tactics.

[hobbknacass]

~Ghastrian Ghouls~

Over these passed weeks I've been keeping myself close to the 'Mist Camp' and the Keep of the Dyad. It turns out once you're finally uninvolved in anything, there isn't a whole lot to do other than clear out the evil tombs or caves that get infested everyday. I'd now begun to ask the outlanders and natives alike about their beliefs, and where they come from, attempting to finally come with reality that as much as I'd like to go home, I am stuck within the core. It'd be nearly a year since I'd arrived in the core, yet my dreams of returning home were always at the back of my mind. The only real thing tying me to the land, was truly the fact that I could not leave.

I had recently learned about the Triad, a group of three gods, being Tyr, Torm and Illmater. I learned about these deities, which originate from Faerun, from a friend of Vanja, a priestess also from Faerun, her friend's name was Aliksandra, or something of that ilk, a holy warrior of Torm. After learning a bit about this 'Triad', they both departed, and I was left to my own devices, before I was approached by a group that was forming, lead by the man called, Geist. Geist had earned a reputation of leading many warbands into the harshest parts of the core, but managing to come out alive with everyone, either by the skin of their teeth or by utterly destroying the enemy, but whenever there was a chance I was around, he always seemed to want to take me with him. He planned to lead a group into the burnt down Ghastrian Church, a place I nearly dreaded. It was burned down almost two hundred years ago or some such, by the Marquis of Ghastria at the time.

I'd learned to avoid the place mostly, in my early adventuring days, I had lead a group of friends there, nearly to their deaths, and I had little desire to return and repeat passed mistakes, but I'd heard that Geist and others had managed to clear it out without enough wards, swords, and tonics. There were about a dozen of us, many of which I luckily recognized. We all seemed capable warriors, warders and trap smiths, so for once going to such a place, I was fairly confident. When we arrived at the site, the very aura the old burnt out church gave off was vile, I needed no power to show that to me. Slowly, we all pilled down the single trap door that was visible that lead below the church. We warded up properly, I'd be surprised if there wasn't a ward that was cast in that tiny space we were using. We then began our entry.

The old church was filled to the brim with ghosts of long dead priests. I'd fought some of them before, but never truly successfully. But we made truly short work of the first few lot of them. As we pressed on, I did begin to get a sense of worry, urgency... I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as we entered a large eating hall, where we saw numerous more of these ghosts. Some of us started to falter a bit, but with the assistance of our divine priests, we were able to deal with the ghosts and heal any of our fallen comrades. I could feel with every attack from the ghosts however... the feelings of death, loneliness, the aging process, it was if the very life force was being sucked out of me, yet I pushed forward.

 There were smaller rooms which had a few ghosts in them... but we made short work of any that were alone, or in pairs. After taking a moment of quick reprieve, we gathered our strength, rewarded and prepared for a tough fight. In the final room, just before a chamber that lead deeper into the ground, I saw dozens of these ghostly priests. Before we could fully act, they began to channel their powers, and began to call down divine fire upon all of us. I could smell the burning flesh... and feel my armor heating me, boiling me alive almost. I went down eventually, engulfed in the flames, and I heard the screams of many others as they fell to their near deaths also. I heard the shouts of others as they began to slowly deal with the undead, until eventually I was brought up again, bathed in divine light by our healers, seeing an absolute massacre around me, blood, guts, ectoplasm... ash... lay everywhere; it was if we had experienced the burning of the church first hand.

There only remained the last area... a dark hallway leading deeper into the ground. Truth be told, I'd not been there in some time, so my memory of what lay in wait for us, had faded. More ghosts laid in wait for us... along with the apparent 'source' of the corruption of the church, a large fiendish looking spider creature... is the best way to describe it. The thing was black, with hard chitin all over it, spewing negative essence on any that would dare get close to it. We managed to defeat it, along with it's undead servants, and finally gain our reward. After the battle I was the one to carry all the items of 'worth' out of that place. We had a good haul I suppose... but I got my own explanation as to what happened to allow these priests to be corrupted. I imagine that they were burned alive in the church for venerating the 'thing' at the bottom of it. But I suppose one may never know for certain...

The lands of the Mists are alluring, I wish to learn more about them, but every time I do, it is almost as if I wish I hadn't. I've not found a foot of land that hasn't been cursed in some way, nor have I found a safe place to live, or have others live... it seems to all be tainted to some degree. I merely hope to be someone that will help fight back these curses.. the taint. Even if I know I can never end it fully, it is a duty, to try.

[hobbknacass]

~Discovery of Tajeda~

The long days I had mentioned before, slowly began to pick up. After my expedition to Ghastria, I had roughly five minutes of reprieve before it was requested I go to yet another horrid place in the core; I suppose it's good to know I'm useful for wiping out monsters, but it is also concerning that there is almost a never ending supply of them.

A small group branched off after the venture into Ghastria, meeting just outside the Mutinied Sailor. They mentioned going to a plague ridden island, called Tajeda. I'd heard this place mentioned a few times in passing, but I'd never been to the isle myself. From what I'd briefly been told, it was an island off the coast of Dementlieu, and that recently numerous adventurers had sought it as a new place to raid for 'loot'. Once again, they requested by sword arm, but this time it was only going to be five of us. I'll tell a bit about each of the members of this 'new' party, as it may be important later on. It would be, myself, Gavour the Hin, Savoc the Freed man, the marksman Gael, and Vuela of the Red Vardo Traders.

Gavour Greattop, was a young Hin locksmith, a bit naïve, but well spirited, always seeking adventure, even in a place like the mists, he almost always had two pistols out, pointing them a bit shakily at the first thing he saw that wasn't a friend of his. Savoc, the freed man, is a former slave, pale complexion, but a damned good fighter, favoring a double scimitar, which Lidya actually enchanted just the day before we decided to venture. Gael, the marksman, favored a crossbow, seemed a gruff type, silent but ready to throw down, and could certainly hold his own, even if he was using a ranged weapon. The last, but not worst, was Vuela of the Red Vardo Traders, a very kind girl, favoring arcane magic, but almost exclusively for herself. It is worth noting however, that Vuela is likely the only Red Vardo Trader from Vallaki that I can bear, given her kind nature, I initially thought she was from the Port-A-Lucine branch, but I was surprised to hear she did in fact come from the grey city.

They managed to convince me to come along with them to the isle of Tajeda, by stating that it was a 'quick, easy trip!' and that it was full of undead. One of those statements at least turned out to be true, but notably, not both. We geared up and made our way to the University of Demenlieu, where I was told apparently we could take a boat from. Upon arriving at the University docks, I was surprised to see a boat full of... what appeared to be healers. After a short boat ride, we arrived at our destination, but of course... we had to get in a rowboat and row our way to the docks of the isle. After landing on the island however... I can see why the captain did not want to approach. As I rowed our boat closer and closer to the shore, I could see a dark cloud above the isle, and what I can only describe as spores that engulfed the air.

As we got out of the boat onto solid land, the stench of decay lay all around us. The very ground itself sank beneath our feet, sinking us into it like a bog. I started to cough but managed to get my barings, I could see the others getting a bit sickened as well, primarily Gavour. We pressed on nontheless. We eventually arrived at the main gates, and proceeded in. We had no warder, but it was assured to me that we could handle it, Vuela even claimed to have done the whole island by herself. Hard to believe, but she didn't seem the type to lie. As we entered, I could practically taste the plague in the air... corpses laid about everywhere, some moving, some still. Every building was boarded up, most marked with holy symbols or messages stating that the building was to be avoided. There were dozens, if not hundreds of undead I could see meandering about.

I now knew that this isle truly did need to be cleansed, the undead needed to be dealt with... the lost souls finally put to rest. We rushed into the town, slaughtering the undead, they were tough I must admit, but they could barely hit us. There were all many of undead... guards... commoners... large plague bearers, children... it was a horrid sight. It seemed as though no one was spared from the plague that was eating away at the island. Not only the men, but the women and children too. Slowly however, the horde of undead became too much to handle, especially as we entered into the keep of Tajeda. There... we experienced tougher foes, and even undead that could 'heal' their allies. We must have defeated a thousand undead, but they just kept coming. Eventually... we had to run into what I assume was a formal Kennel, as it was full of zombified dogs... which we had to put down.

We had to rest, we had practically no choice, and we had almost expended every healing tonic or magical item we had to keep ourselves breathing. The undead merely continued to come... and I heard that we had not even done half of the place. To make things worse... Vuela had to depart early, leaving us without her arcane abilities, which were making short work of the undead. With four of us left, Gavour was adamant, that we had to continue, and that the money we'd make from it all, would be worth the trouble, at the time, I believed him. Nevertheless, we cleared out the rest of the keep, battered and worn we departed to clear out the church, and the hospital.

Savoc and Gael looked worse than I did, but they still seemed willing to press on, so I followed suit. Upon entering the hospital first... I had no expected to see such a horrific sight. The keep was bad enough... bodies laid about everywhere, along with the countless undead... and the dogs. But... seeing the hospital... with children's bodies... dozens of them... I almost couldn't bear it. I'd have paid my respects if it wasn't for the constant swarm of undead still. As we were in the midst of fighting, another group of adventurers rushed in behind us, seeking to 'help?'. I did not approve of this in the slightest, and got a bad feeling, but Gavour seemed to trust them, at the time, so we merely pressed on into the church. Ezrites... so many of them had fallen.

Even with the other group with us, we all eventually met our matches, almost every one of us went down. As I was healed and brought back up, I saw something almost as bad as the island itself. As almost everyone else was fighting back the hordes of undead, getting up fallen comrades up one by one, the 'golden archer' named Dax, stole my coin purse as I was getting up, then an undead smacked me down again. After the combat finally settled and we were all back on our feet, I managed to get him to give me the coins back, but I'm certainly an all out brawl would have taken place had he not done so. Shortly after that... we departed back for the Mutinied Sailor to sell our found goods. In total, we made five thousand coins from our near death experience. The reward was of course clearing out the place of undead, but to think that Gavour, Savoc and Gael wanted to press on, risking their lives for five thousand gold... was concerning.

The next day, I explained my tale to a good friend of mine, Gail, like the wind, and we decided to go back to clear it of undead once again. They seemed to be in a weakened state, but there were still hundreds of undead. After we did our duty in dispatching the undead, we decided to investigate in an attempt to find out exactly what happened on the isle. From what I could understand, it appears as though a disease took ahold of many people, and the Ezrites could do little to fix it, so they took to... desperate measures. The Baroness of the isle eventually grew ill as well, and slowly went insane... leading to numerous other ill effects befalling the isle until eventually there was naught but undead left there.

More curses... is there not a land that exists within the mists that is safe? I hope to one day make a safe place here... if I truly cannot leave. But with everything I see... the land itself cannot endure.

[hobbknacass]

~Patience~

Patience, often a virtue I struggle with. Something that has somewhat been thrust upon me as of late. I would say the most common trait of those that are brought to the lands of the mists, or any that really adventure, is the lack of patience. I was the most guilty of lacking patience however, usually charging head first into whatever amount of trouble I could get into when I first arrived here. Of course, do I regret it? Not really. I have many regrets, but I can say that learning the hard way as to how this world operated, is something I certainly do not regret. Truth be told, I think if I did have more patience, that I'd likely have made even more mistakes in my time in the core. Inaction is a sin in and of itself.

So often has patience been a point of conflict, waiting seemed almost painful for me, if something was actively occurring it almost surely wasn't going to happen in my mind. I was quite foolish, when I look back on it. Though many in the core do, in fact, mistake inaction for patience, and I can certainly say that I am a man of action. Perhaps I would have not gotten into so much trouble if I had... 'minded my own business' as many of the criminals would state. In a place such as this, however, I could never see how one would properly face justice without some outside force intervening. After all, lycans, vampires, ghouls, wights, even flesh golems stalk the night, yet no one seems particularly keen to go out and deal with them, as though they are merely a way of the world, and are unavoidable. For a long while there was a group known as the 'Wayfarer's Kinship', they often times dealt with such things, but ever since their betrayal of the Count of Barovia, they're almost all gone.

Over time, I did begin to realize that there were worse monsters than merely lycans, fiends or undead. No, the worst of all monsters were truly the ones that had a choice in the matter, those that choose to be evil. That was something I struggled with even more, after all if you see someone doing evil, should you truly be... 'patient'? The short answer, is no. Though, the long answer is, actually yes. I've made many enemies throughout the core, I couldn't possibly detail them all even if I tried. Though recently, I have begun to relax more, taking extra care to not just smash my head into the enemies of night. I often wondered what would happen to my enemies if I wasn't there to oppose them, I wondered if others would, at the least.

Surprisingly, no. No one sought to take up arms against these people, it was seen as... 'too much trouble' or that 'their friends would certainly seek revenge'. Whatever you want to call that, it never stopped me before. But with no one to fight, ironically... these enemies decided that fighting each other, would be preferable. So by doing what I thought was... 'wasting away', I actually managed to witness my enemies devour one another, and I get to feast on the bones. Granted, I believe I got lucky, but it doesn't surprise me that any that would seek harm on others, when there are no 'others' to harm, they'd just turn on one another.

Truth be told, I do believe that some rest and relaxation is what will serve me best. Constantly fighting keeps me well trained, but exhausted. I'd rather just sit back and enjoy the few good things in life. I think I'll save the sword swinging for enemies that want to make themselves known once again, but until then, no monster hunting for Maren Jars.

Spoiler: show

[hobbknacass]

~Love and Night Stalkers~

Ah yes, I remember some time ago I wrote that I'd not do any monster hunting, naturally I was foolish, for I hunted at least one monster. My life in the city of Port-A-Lucine has gone wonderfully. It reminds me nearly of home. I keep hearing tale of 'Darkon' from numerous people, it sounds more and more like Nixus everyday. Ironically enough, I'm told in Darkonese that Nixus translates to 'Snow', I couldn't have thought of a more accurate name if I had tried. Sometimes I miss the harsh cold of Nixus, in my youth it brought me some comfort, taught me to be strong, of course back then the strong ate the weak in almost a literal sense, or if you're one of the Artic elves... a literal sense. But since coming to Port-A-Lucine, I've been greeted with nothing but warmth. The people are kind, and seek only to help their fellow man, not only myself but whoever comes to the city wishing to begin a new life.

Though, I certainly cannot complain about the kindness in particular I've received. At the Keep of the Dyad, it seems as though everyone either sees you as their next money maker, or their next meal, it is a cold place with little left to the imagination, and you're lucky to get a word from anyone other than 'Venture?'. It seems as though that's all most people wish to do, go to the same old crypts and raid them for whatever scraps of loot can be left after being raided hundreds if not thousands of times by adventurers passed. In Port-A-Lucine the city bustles with all sorts of entertainment, culture... luxury. I've spoken with complete strangers for hours on end about all manner of things, whether it be balls, weddings, pubs; the city has it all! I'm truly most surprised at the fact that many used to claim that they did not wish to stay in the city, that it was all too 'noble' or some such. What a foolish thing. The people of Dementlieu are far kinder than that of any other country I've visited in the core, it's the reason I've decided to live in the damned city.

I've found something... quite unexpected in the city. I thought that after my days wasting away in Barovia and the keep that I'd not find find love... but I'm quite glad to have been proven wrong. The meeting was by chance, and it was clear I was not well received at first, but slowly we both grew on each other. When I came to the city I was at my near lowest, I didn't know where to go or who to turn to, but there she was. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen, blessed by all the saints and the creator of all things. I could feel her heart as if it were my own, yet hers burned hotter than any other I'd felt before. I could tell that not only was her heart and her body blessed, but her very soul. She wanted to truly help me, give me a chance like no one else would. She heard my tale, all of it, I left nothing out for her. She did not excuse what I'd done, but like no one else, she at least listened and understood why I did what I did. She /wanted/ to know, she /wanted/ to help.

Love can be hard, but I've been, for once, put at ease by it. I've seen first hand what unhealthy love looks like, first hand since there was yet another night stalker about, only this time in Port-A-Lucine. I'd be after him for a while, his identity remaining a mystery to me for some time, but I was hot on his trail from the beginning, little did I know that he'd be right under everyone's noses. After some detective work, his identity was revealed with the help of a renowned monster hunter. The /thing/ couldn't have been more obvious as to what it was in hindsight, but nonetheless, we dealt with it as fast as it could before it fled into the night. We searched day and night, but we found it again, its lair. A sick place of depravity and sin, but we were able to finally face it. Even in its final moments we gave it a chance to die with some semblance of humanity, naturally like all night creatures, it refused.

After a tense fight, with many deaths on both sides, we were victorious, and the city was safe once again. But we could see the thing's obsession, its lust. Love corrupted it at first, then its bloodlust and the arts. The mists always finds its way into /fools/. Poisonous thoughts are a beacon to the neverborn. I was once weak as that thing was, the only difference is that my mind I still retained some amount of sanity before the neverborn crept in fully, a blessing, and last chance.

Spoiler: show