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Missives of Uggthdraal

The revelation of these letters shook the world. Initially only known to a small band of adventurers, their contents would change much of how people view the world.

First Missive

To whomever finds this writing, you must first understand that what I do, I do for you.

When history is written, it will forget, because it has been made to forget, because we will make it forget. I, the witness to this history, will not join the great river. The lives I have taken, the evil I have done, I have done so that there might be peace.

This war is devastating. We have been locked in perpetual combat with the Lords of Darkenna, as they try to wrought destruction on this world for no other reason than petty jealousy. They have resurrected as their minion the mad sorcerer Leofwynn, and has set armies upon the world. Their magics, forged with strange machines, suck the Mythica out of creature of Myth to power their weapons.

We cannot take such actions. We cannot utterly destroy a soul and deny it it’s final rest, with two exceptions. I will be the last, the first will be Mortdecai, the chosen of Satera. They are strong with their God, and in a mighty act of betrayal, we will trap Satera beyond this world.

I will witness this act. I will witness the final destruction of Danthalax, and then I too will be destroyed. My essence trapped in a singing crystal, so that I may never join the great river. Yet, I must record this history. And so, in the slow and painful way of others, I write it.

I am Uggthdraal, the Tengai. For the last 5 years, I have, voluntarily, separated myself from the great river. This is done least I fall in combat, and my tribemates who have fallen to the lure of the Lords of Darknenna call me back. There I will be compelled to tell them all that I can see, and all that I know. These darkened tribemates have found a way that they can inflict ruinous harm on those souls in the great river, even destroying those that hold the key to the destruction of the Lords of Darknenna. The pain of such separation is daunting, and is kept in check by medicines created by Mortdecai.

If we have been successful, the Lords of Darknenna will be unknown to those of you who find this. The Lords of Darknenna will be known as terrible tales, as stories to frighten unruly children. As terrors of the night. But they will be not be real. The Lords of Darknenna are demons, and they rule a land said to be in the heart of our world. While we have travelled there, it always seems to be a plane of it’s own. These Lords are ruled over by the Princes. Each Prince with it’s own agenda. They ape the structure of our world, and twist it. For them, it is a game. They cannot be killed in this world, only bannished back to their own to begin again in the fiery spawnpits of their world. A demon fights, steals, begs, and makes alliegences to gain power. It is their own infighting, and our gods that have kept them at bay.

Until now.

The Lords of Darknenna have banded together under one banner, that of Prince Kanes. He managed to entrap the soul of the rotten magicion Leofwynn, and together they have found a way to create a substance of pure evil, known as the Darkness. It is made from the living Mythica of the world. It corrupts it, eats it, twists it, and grows. It seeps into the hearts of all creatures, turning their desires away from those of kinship, and towards those of selfish desires, that lead always to destruction.

First, they corrupted the dragons. The once noble creatures of Myth, they were the first to fall. Unsuspecting and arrogant, the Dragons thought themselves beyond the reach of any magic. They were wrong. With their army of dragons, the Strygath were next. Their mighty and terrible tribes joined to follow the Dragons, and like them, became under their thrall. For a time, the war was contained. Strygath against Strygath (for many saw the dragons as Strygath). Even the Gods of the Strygath came down to fight to free their corrupted children.

We were a small travelling band of mercenries then. Led as we were by Allyeous Tanner, we were six in all. Myself, as a novice of the Great River, off to see what I might record. Ithican Wolfsbane had joined us to seek his fortune. The younger son of Ameus Wolfsbane he had no wish to join the temples, though he had a great love for Helios, he had a stronger love for adventure. Dilathia was our Mage, pure hearted and interested in all that made up the world. Rumbark was our primary fighter. Fearless in battle, and a writer of poetry. Yornasita was our scout. Small and nibble, they were, like many, difficult to contain. It was always necessary to empty Yornasita’s pockets if we ever wished to return again somewhere. It is likely that your history records all these names, in some form or an other. For completeness, I should mention that Dilathia was an Elf, Rumbark a dwarf, and Yornasita a gobiln.

Mortdecai was our cleric of Stratera. The one to whome the most injustice will be done. They will be forgotten by history, by necessity. They will likely be cursed by their god for their treachery. They are my friend. Perhaps friend is an injustice to the time that we two have spent together. They are my soul-mate, my heart’s splinter. I watch them now as I write this. They are deep in a trance in our room deep in the mountain beneath Castle Wolfsbane, clearing their mind and levelling their scales.

The reader might find it unusual that Stratera has clerics. Perhaps clerics is the wrong word, but we have struggled to find a better one. They are people called by Stratera when things have become unbalenced. Their role is to ensure that neither Fate, nor Chaos reigns. Though, as war ravages the world around us, it seems that this time Chaos will win.

I have wandered far.

When we joined the war, it was for the base reason of coin. We had not eaten well in many moons, surviving on what little we could catch, or the small amount we could trade our skills for. When the Strygath and their gods began promising coin to aid them in their war, we could not make their front line fast enough. There, another companion joined our group. Uthanitat Troodon, a viscious but jovial Strygath. They were a tenacious warrior, and travelled with us for a long while until they gave their lives to aid our escape from ruins of Krysh to obtain the star jewel. I find it almost unbelievable that after everything they went through there, and their kinship with Uthanitat, that Yornasita will return the jewel to where we found it. The land was blasted by our actions, turning the lands of Reinhold into nothing but dessert. I can see the sense of returning it, but I do not understand why Yornasita would wish to return it. Perhaps they have always felt guilt over such destruction of their homeland. We have tried many times to console Yornasita. It was not our fault. We had no choice but to battle the specter of Leofwynn, or we ourselves would perish. We were not to know that the destruction of the spector should unleash such evil and terrible magics.

On the front lines we saw first hand the dangers of the power that the Lords had gained. For a time we lost Dilathia to the Darkness, though it was moons before we noticed, and many moons more before we discovered that the divine light of Helios could drive out the darkness from someone’s heart. It was during our attempt to kidnap Dilathia that Alleyous lost their life. Thankfully we ensured that their body could not be used to fuel their darkness machines.

The tide of the war was against us. While we had been preoccupied with the Strygath, the world that we had left had changed. The Darkness had crept into everything. Violence and betrayal was all around us. While the world had never been exactly a paragon of virtue, temples were being destroyed, cities were turning against the gods, and such atrocities were committed against those that would not bow the the Lords of Darknenna. Some people rebelled, and some resisted in other ways. The search for more Mythica to power their machines drove the Blue and Black soldiers of the Lords in search of creature of Myth. This was our first task.

Without the creatures of Myth, we reasoned, there would be less to power their Darkness. We needed somewhere to hide the creatures of Myth. It was Dilathia who had the idea, but not yet the knowledge. They planned to hide the creatures in a timeless plane. There the creatures would remain until the tide of the war was turned. Our reason was sound. I do not know how the Great River judges this decision now, but the river will have forgotten what terrible ravages their Myth-extraction machine rent upon a body, or if it still remembers, no-one will remember to ask.

Dilathia reached out to their fellow mages, who agreed on the plan. They created groves, sanctuaries of trees. These would be the portals to what came to be called the Plane of Myth. This plane could hold all the creatures of Myth that we were able to get into them. This great magic was wrought throughout the world at once, costing many lives, and nearly costing Dilathia’s too. It was no kindness that Dilathia lived, for their body remained twisted and aganoised. Some how their anger drove them onwards.

My shortness of writing might suggest that this process was quick, but by now it had been nearly 4 full cycles of seasons. We were just entering our 4th winter, and we knew that this one would be harsh. The magic used to create the Plane of Myth had required the use of much divine magic, the only magic that could create a place for life. It had drained many of the clerics of their power, and weakened many of the Light Gods. This was a winter when the Dark Gods had no rivals to keep them in check. In a way, this had worked in our favour. Without the Light Gods staying their hands, the war against the Lords gained a new, but brutal vigour. Hope of saving those who had fallen to the Darkness was gone, indeed, it is likely that we lost hope utterly in this dark time. There was but a small light, no brighter than a candle. Stratera was now forced to balence the world. As the creatures of Myth were removed, so too must the creatures of the Lords be removed, and many of the lesser Lords themselves. Clerics of Stratera were finding themselves on the front lines, with the power to banish the Lords into a balanced plane. The plane of Nightmare. It was here that Ithican realised our folley. When the war was won (Ithican would not stand for us to use the word ‘if’), and we released the Plane of Myth, then so too would the Plane of Nightmare. That would be balence. This was the start of Ithican’s great plan.

Over the next few cycles, Ithican gathered the knowledge to put his plan into action. War had stagnated, but we were still losing. Their army grew each time we lost. Our army could not be replenished so quickly. Many cities were signing ‘peace’ accords with the Lords, in order to save their citizens. These accords removed all hope from those cities, and soon the people learned that the Lords have no honour. No accords, even those they had signed, had any meaning to them.

The cities became places of death, where the Lords would reward the most corrupt. If you could sell out a traitor, you would get coin, and perhaps favour. They masterfully, if I can use such a word, pitted son against father, daughter against mother. They turned friends into enemies, and sowed distrust with wild abandon. We narrowly escaped many times when we were betrayed by someone who had realised who we were. We had by now become well known to the Lords as troublemakers, and to the resistance as heros. We did not feel like heros. We did many distasteful thing for coin, and to fill our bellies. Perhaps, as this will be the only history of our exploits I shall not record those actions in details, but suffice to say that we killed for our enemy in order to live. More than once. Our time with the enemy was necessary, however. We needed information. Ithican’s great plan needed powerful items, and to know what connected to Lords together.

We found through this terrible investigation we found that it was the Lord’s destructive tendencies that bound them together. They were only able to enter this world through using a concentrated form of Mythica, that which powers all life. A combined form of divine essence and Mythica. The very life-force of people. It is why the Lords continually sought to make deals with people - the end of the deals they would gain their essence, or part of their essence. This would corrupt this essance, and create in them a new… mythical resonance. I do not understand the full nature of the thing, but this corruption is known to many mages of our time. It was decided that this corruption could be used to pull them all, with suitable power, into the plane.

This would allow us to drive all of the Lords on our world into the plane of nightmares.

Before we can reach that point, however, we face two problems. The first is the shade of Leofwynn. We are unsure if he can be killed, so he will have to be imprisoned. The other is the Statera. There is no way that he would allow a world to continue with the Divines still in place, and their counterparts, the Lords, locked beyond this realm. They too must be imprisoned.

The key to each prison will be the Star Jewel, it is the only mortal item that has the power to seal such prisons. Statera will be locked deep below the castle, trapped in the mortal plane and stripped of his power. They will be the first prison that we will create, and will cost my dearest everything.

With Statera so imprisoned, we will then be free to upset the balance in our favour. Our second act is to imprison Leofwynn, this will be more difficult. We believe that Leofwynn’s essence is somehow holding the door to the Darkenna open, but we do not know where Leofwynn’s essence is currently held. The shade that walks as Leofwynn is a projection of his true self, yet this shade is guarded by abominations that they have created. They have raised from the dead their own prodigies and generals, and they have between us and them an entire army.

We believe that we can trap Leofwynn’s essence into the Star Jewel. Should we manage to accomplish this we will have but a short time before the last of Leofwynn’s magic closes the portal to Darkenna. If we are able, before the falling of the sun to enact our magics, we can drive the Lords from our plane into their own.

I must now finish this writing, for our time fast approaches. This writing, as you are by now aware, the only record of our actions. I will try to write more, should I have time. Know that no-one, not even my love, knows of my actions. I fear that they are treasonous, but I cannot stop myself. Unless my time ends abruptly, I will write more.

Second Missive

To whomever finds this writing, you must first understand that what I do, I do for you.

When history is written, it will forget, because it has been made to forget, because we will make it forget. I, the witness to this history, will not join the great river. Yet I have chosen, treasonously, to write the deeds of our small band that dares to bring about peace.

This is the second missive that I have written.

I am Uggthdraal, the keeper of this record. I write this days after our first success. Statera has been imprisoned, and my love is trapped, eternally as their warder. Mortdecai betrayed their master, for the love of the world. There is no such greater love. Watching their imobile body sat against the wall, in meditation, you could almost believe that one giant shake would wake them. I must confess that I, selfishly, in the dead of the night did sneak down and try. I told myself that it was to ensure that there was no waking them, but in reality it was to see them again, at peace. It brings me some comfort to know that they are, at least, where they wished to be. Sacrificed for the greater good. Statera has quieted their ranting, and now just throws barbed jibes at us as we take our turns in watch, to ensure that Statera is properly held. Statera’s final words, before the cell closed was one of curse. He claims that he has locked the Sanctuary, that it may only be entered, and never left.

We have successfully removed the gem from center of the ritual, and the cell has held. The gem has now lost it’s bright yellow lustre, turning an odd shade of ugly orange. It is likely that we are draining it’s power in doing this. We can now only hope that Mortdecai is able to control the crystal from inside, assuming anything of Mortdecai survived.

The ritual can be reversed. It is as simple as putting the Star Gem back into it’s place. The magic holds until the crystal finishes the connections. To do so would release Statera, and we cannot allow that until such time as we have driven the Lords to the plane of Nightmare.

The words of Statera have given me unease. Ithican demands that our plan stands, for even if we cannot bring our friends back from Sanctuary, we cannot allow the Lords to remain on our plane. It is war, and his words make sense to me, seeing their destruction wrought not just on the world, but on our fellows bodies, minds and souls. I do not think that History will agree with us, and I fear what the world would be without such artisans, grafts people, philosophers and explorers of the natural world. I weep for what they will not be able to create. What inventions and ideas we will loose, and have lost. Yet I cannot sanction the damage the Lords are doing, and I must help those still trapped in their wrath.

Our next step is a treacherous one. To face the hordes of Leofwynn, we must close our ears to the ravages of war, and seek out powerful items to aid our quest. Many of these can only be held by those who’s purpose is righteous and good, and It is into these that I will wrap my hidden missives. It is the only way I can be sure that they fall into the hands of those who would use them wisely. A small, but unique spell, which should at least leave a raft of items throughout the world that can only be used by those worthy enough to use them. I do not have much magic of my own, but I see no reason to not power such things from my very being.

For the sake of history, it should be noted that these things we do will claim us. Not just our bodies, but our physical essence. Each of us lent part of ourselves to the imprisonment of Statera, Mordecai did not have the power and strength of will on their own. From my understanding, the release of Statera will require an equally strong act of will and sacrifice, once the stone has been placed. Statera is trapped in a mortal body, but their knowledge is still vast. It should be remembered, however, that they remain themselves. All information will bring about an equalising affect.

Be weary of attempting to reach their cell, deep in the heart of Castle Wolfsbane. We have left many traps and tricks behind to catch the unwary. Each of us has added a little of our own being to the traps, so they reflect our nature and our hopes for the future. It is unlikely that a single person will be able to make their way through each of the traps. It is our sincere hope that it is only those with noble intentions that can make it through.

For now we make our way towards making our final plans. I will write more when there is more to write.

Third Missive

To whomever finds this writing, you must first understand that what I do, I do for you.

When history is written, it will forget, because it has been made to forget, because we will make it forget. I, the witness to this history, will not join the great river. Yet I have chosen, treasonously, to write the deeds of our small band that dares to bring about peace.

This is the third missive that I have written.

I am Uggthdraal, the keeper of this record. It has been many moons since I last wrote. Much of the intervening time has been filled with violence and bloodshed, but I fear that this is the last time that I will be able to write. We have discovered Leofwynn’s terrible secret. Moons ago, he attempted to bring violence against some of the greatest mages of all time. The battle was bloody, and tore at the fabric of the world. The mages were unwilling to let their prodigy fall to such dark rage, and they destroyed him. In his last moments, Leofwynn’s dark magic sought a way to survive as their soul was being torn into pieces, and they reached into the Darkenna. There, in an act of terrible violence, they tore apart a Lord, and fused it with their own self. Destroying that Lord, but making themselves something different, something new, something terrible. Having discovered this act, they seek to make themselves more than just immortal, they seek to reach up and bring the divines down to them, so that they too may be ripped and fused into themselves. We have no idea if this is possible, but we have heard that the Gods themselves are planning to walk abroad to end this abomination.

It is likely that this has been Leofwynn’s plan all along. To drag one of them down, and to take their place. They would be a monstrosity, a monstrosity bend on nothing but revenge against those who destroyed him. He plans to bring them back from the beyond, to plunder the realm of the gods so that he can torture them forever. I just cannot fathom such rage.

It means that we must act faster than we were intending. With this information comes some other news. We have found where Leofwynn keeps his true essence. He has bound it to a gem hidden inside the mighty dragon Danthalax. Our plan would have driven Leofwynn’s essence beyond our grasp, dragons are creatures of Myth. We must now destroy the mighty dragon. This should destroy the true essence of Leofwynn.

A terrible decision was taken by Ithican. We have long wondered how we might get the power to fund our great magic. Ithican has proposed that we use the Myth contained in the great dragon itself. That will ensure two things, the death of Leofwynn, and the the sealing of the Lords in the realm of Nightmare. I despise the idea that we will use the very soul of such a great beast for such a purpose, but if Leofwynn manages to claim a divinity, there is no power on this world that can stop them.

I cannot stop them, but nor can I bring myself to enter such a venture. I am not needed for the assault on Danthalax. We are concerned that Leofwynn may have another way to protect themselves. Myself, along with a few of our bravest soldiers are going to attempt to access Leofwynn’s tower, and to find there any writings or artefacts that might be of danger to our plan. If the plan to to kill Danthalax does not work, then we will find ourselves facing the most powerful sorcerer the world has ever known in person. If it does work, then it is likely that the tower, held together as it is by the will of Leofwynn’s power, will crumble around us.

If I am able, I will write how it ended. If not, may this missive serve as a warning, and record of all that we did.

Fourth Missive

To whomever finds this writing, you must first understand that what I do, I do for you.

When history is written, it will forget, because it has been made to forget, because we will make it forget. I, the witness to this history, will not join the great river. Yet I have chosen, treasonously, to write the deeds of our small band that dares to bring about peace.

This is the fourth missive that I have written.

I am Uggthdraal, the keeper of this record. I write this as my memory begins to fade. The magic that we wrought in the destruction of the great Dragon has gripped the world. Leofwynn’s essence has been banished. The war is over. Peace will come. They are already calling for Ithican to be made king, assuming they live through their injuries. History will forget me, as it will forget Mortdecai, as it will forget Statera trapped in deep in the dungeons of the Castle Wolfsbane. The tower that I am in, the tower of Leofwynn the Sorcerer that tore apart the soul of a Lord of Darkenna to keep themselves alive, is crumbling before my eyes.

This mortal body will not survive it’s injuries. It is necessary therefore that in order that I do not join the Great River, that my essence is placed elsewhere. The great wizards of Genat and Ordan have agreed to bind my essence into the Dragon’s Heart.  This missive is being written while I am being carried to them. I do not have the strength to hide this missive, as I have hidden others. There is very little of my essence left, and selfishly I do not wish to end like that. I entrust this missive into the hands of a loyal soldier, who has vowed that they will hide it well. I cannot ask for more than that.

Our journey into Leofwynn’s castle did not go as planned. We had many shades to fight, some of former comrades in arms twisted by his vile Darkness. I record that information here, for the reader to decide what use it has. We discovered that the Lord that Leofwynn destroyed to take their essence was the Lord focused on the destructive nature of War. We know that Leofwynn had planned to trap a divine, and use their power, but we believe that we have stopped them before that was possible. With his followers gone, there is no power left for Leofwynn’s shade to muster, and as we are forget, so will their shade be forgotten, and with it, the last vestiges of power of Leofwynn on this mortal plane. All other power is safely trapped, and hidden where no-one will be able to find it. Despite this, and despite their lack of power, Loefwynn’s shade was still difficult and angry opponent, yet myself and my comrades bested him, though at great cost to life.

We each have our tasks. Ithican, as a natural ruler will seek to rebuild the land in an image of peace. Dilathia will ensure that all knowledge of the ancient magics is destroyed, and forgotten. Rumbark will ensure that in the new world people are prepared to fight, least we are not succesful, and Yornasitta is to ensure that the item containing Leofwynn is well hidden. History will forget.

My task has already been completed; I was tasked with ensuring that all weaponry that is was used has been scattered throughout the land. I have sent soldiers on missions to hide them in various places, and amongst them I have hidden my missives. Ithican has assured me that he will have his sword placed in Castle Woflsbane. He plans to have a duplicate made, and to hide the original with my beloved Mortdecai.

My hope, by nature, is that these missives will all be found and read, and that when they are, history will not judge us harshly. Despite this, I hope that these missives never reach the light of day - that never again will a band of friends seek to save the world from such an evil and terrible force as Leofwynn, and that such magics that we have wrought, such violence, such pain has been banished forever.

To you who reads this, I am sorry for the world that you find yourself in. It is my fervent hope that these missives will be of use. I must stop writing now. My memory, as I do, fades fast. May the gods be ever on your side, may Lady fate look favourably upon you, and may you know the truth of your own heart.


Uggthdraal of the Tengai