Book of Moggdelve

[Karwelas]

Book of Moggdelve

written by Student Alecto Hadwyn-Zagar

The Moggdelve excavations were my first field trip under the Sandstone College banner and a truly enlightening experience. As a student, I was privileged to be invited to these digs by Professor Zayd Jafar of the Great Academy of Baz'eel, a famous archaeologist. During his research, he found evidence of maps leading to an ancient site called Moggdelve, a possible ancient stronghold of the Thousand Clan.

Professor Zayd Jafar

Our first group consisted of a few different individuals:
Zauzar Davesk - powerful fighter and part of the Torchbearer Scout Crew.
Mirielle Rosseau - bard and Balestriere of the Banda Rossa mercenary company.
Samira Al-Darvish - skilled swordswoman and Balladeer of Balladeers of the Lost Hearth.
Golgrim Ironbones - Dwarven warrior and kobold slayer.
Ettore Lazzari - Il Modan and student of the College.
Nofri Di'Ovidio - Il Modan and student of the college.
Sattida Shajar - Witch of the College, Student of Black Tassel - later revealed to be a Baharu cultist and executed after trial on 26th Kanon Hray IY 7787.
And yours truly - wizard, healer and surgeon of Green Tassel.

Our journey began when we joined a caravan of the Professor's hired men, led by a truly skilled and talented half-orc by the name of Doran Blackridge. He proved to be a truly skilled individual, if a little cold and not very talkative, and I can recommend his services to anyone wishing to embark on a long journey across the sands of the Great Ashes Desert. His caravan, though not the largest, is undoubtedly sturdy and his crew are skilled at spotting and avoiding danger.

Doran Blackridge

One particular member of his crew I would like to mention is Al-Phut, a brave camel who pulls the whole wagon up into mountain ranges without stopping or complaining. He also somehow managed to sense the evil of the witch in our group by constantly spitting at her (with great aim, I might add) or just didn't like her. Still, some animals can sense such things, I have heard.

Brave Camel Al-Phut

When we arrived at the mountain camp - I will not reveal the exact location as it is not my place to do so - I saw snow on Disc for the first time since my awakening. The cold wasn't a problem as the camp was well supplied with food and fires were lit, albeit by men who feared for their lives. For what reason, you may ask? I will explain. When we arrived, we were greeted by Professor himself.

He revealed to us his greatest discoveries: The Sunforged Mirage Blade, the Windsong Harp and the famous Oasis Prism. As he mentioned, he had visited the Well to meet with his old friend, a man fascinated by the mountain range we were in and the location of Moggdelve, apparently an orcish settlement. However, his friend passed away before he could lead the expedition to the place, and so Professor Jafar decided to carry on his friend's legacy. We were asked to form a party and clear the way to the Moggdelve Gates - apparently one of the Thousand Clans had decided to protect the way, and the diggers were not the people to deal with such dangers... and so we did.

The Camp

The caves were indeed filled with various types of Orc troops - from the Unproven to the Legates and their Shamans, as well as the notorious assassins known as Whisperers. They attacked us with great force and anger as we slaughtered them and challenged their claim to these caves, for discovery and science, and the blood that flowed into the cold ground was proof and weight to our words. Their forces were formidable and proven in battle, but we managed to push through them, first to their main base of operations and later to the point that led deeper into the caves - where we were surprised for the first time.

Forces of Thousand Clans

What we found was an obelisk covered with runic warnings that we could not read, but they were clear - this was a dangerous area where they dared not follow us. And so it proved to be a correct statement. The orcish forces stood still, not daring to follow or even approach the obelisk. Thinking of the danger we were about to face, we entered the sand-filled cave.

Orcan Warning Obelisk

When we stepped inside, it was... empty. Ash and sand filled it to the brim, crushing our feet. Yours truly, however, immediately sensed that something was wrong - and I was right. Suddenly, the sands began to move, and in a matter of minutes, we went from calm to the frenzy of battle as we faced a truly formidable foe. Arena Vermis Titania - Sand Worm Tytanical, one of the largest I have ever seen. It was truly a large specimen, at least fifty feet in size, and we were about to feel what it feels like to face one. The shaking of the ground proved to be the biggest challenge at first, knocking us down. But we soon realised that the skin of such a creature was worth ten plates of armour. Even heavily armoured blades had trouble penetrating it... from both sides! For some of us... were devoured by it.

Arena Vermis Titania

I was inside it too, my friends, and I know that I will never forget fighting various aggressive organs and oozes, living in symbiosis with it, inside it. I saw our melee fighters scream in rage and frustration as their blades bounced off its insides and skin... and soon after, it spat us out. We fought it for what seemed like hours. Ice rays, crossbow bolts, blades slashing at its skin and insides, for these it swallowed... but finally it fell. And so the orcish forces did not follow us - from what we were told, they retreated after our battle with the worm, acknowledging our claim to the place. And so we reached the gates of Moggdelve, tired but happy. However, we found something unexpected... dwarven runes on the gate. Moggdelve was Dwarf Hold, not Orc Hold. So we returned to the camp and gave our word to the Professor. We knew we would have to wait before continuing - the gates were buried in rubble... but we knew we had found something monumental. And soon we would be proved right.

Gates of Moggdelve

Our second trek to the Moggdelve, as the Professor called us, was with a slightly different group. Some of the previous group couldn't make it. In this group we had:
Zauzar Davesk - powerful fighter and part of the Torchbearer Scout Crew.
Mirielle Rosseau - Bard and Balestriere of the Banda Rossa mercenary company.
Samira Al-Darvish - skilled swordswoman and Balladeer of the Balladeers of the Lost Hearth.
Golgrim Ironbones - Dwarven warrior and kobold slayer.
Ettore Lazzari - Il Modan and student of the College, spear welder.
Andvari Lawcleaver - Soldier of the Sultan of Baz'eel in the Fourth Legion, the "Misfortune", master of the great sword.
Sattida Shajar - Witch of the College, Student of Black Tassel - later revealed to be a Baharu cultist and executed after trial on 26th Kanon Hray IY 7787.
And Yours Truly - Wizard, Healer and Surgeon of the Green Tassel.

We travelled again with our beloved caravan and its leader, Doran. On arrival, we were informed that although the Great Gates had been breached, there had been some complications. The ruins proved to be filled with mysterious talking but immobile statues, but more importantly, they were beset by kobolds wielding dwarven weapons and equipment.

The Entrance Hall

The Kobold Tribe forces

We were given an ultimatum by the kobolds - retreat and be given gold, or face their forces... and so we fought the tribe that had overrun the ancient dwarven stronghold. Their forces, armed with weapons forged by the hands of the former owners of the fortress, were to be reckoned with - have you ever tried to wound a kobold trained to use a shield of dwarven steel? I doubt it. They threw stunning gas at us, ambushed us from the tunnels, blocked them with various barricades and traps. Things quickly turned against these filthy creatures as their tribe began to die by the dozens. All the while, however, we were privy to tales of dwarven ghosts...

One of Crying Statues

They told of their ruin and of the mysterious "Lad, Gem among Stones", who had slain a mighty monster and been raised to a position in the "King's Court", possibly King Owain of the City of Rings, or some sort of dwarven ruler. Their axe swung for ores, not for enemies. On the day the lad left, there was a collective sadness, for they felt that his destiny was now elsewhere, and they felt a loss. The legends were not of relief, but of longing. Later we were able to learn that the said Lad was an excellent blacksmith, and with the King's blessing he experienced a kind of Ascension. And so we found a statue of the dwarf welding a hammer and a large anvil, pictured below.

Statue of "The Lad"(?) with gigantic dwarven anvil

The pride of the people of Moggdelve was in their kin, but a betrayal had taken place within the stronghold - a wound that cut deep.  Now their hands lay cold, for before they had seen greatness on the road, and "their caves did not echo with picks and songs". I have no idea what else happened in Moggdelve at that time, for we could find no other elements of the story from the statues.

More important was the plan of the kobolds - when they realised that their tribe was being decimated, they decided to "destroy the machine" and us with it. When we stormed through, we found the said machine... an ancient dwarven forge that the spirits had previously named: "The Heart of the Forgefather." The hideous creatures decided to destroy everything by setting the forge into overdrive, hoping that the explosion would bury us and give them time to retreat.

The Great Forge (Heart of the Forgefather?) in overdrive, from our entrance point

Their plan failed, however. We charged through and fought the fires of the Heart itself - and believe me, we fought. Pillars of flame and fireballs shot from it like a sandstorm outside, setting even the stone on fire and melting it beneath our feet as these filthy beasts tried to cut us down and slow our efforts. Each of us was a hero that day, saving the legacy of people long forgotten. Eventually, the flames were defeated, thanks to a dwarven water pump, lots of ice magic and waves of sand. We were victorious, and the heart of the fortress was saved. We then ventured deeper and slain the last of the kobolds, destroying their tribe in the process. A fine achievement on our part, I would say. And so we returned to the Professor and explained our story. He declared us heroes, and somewhere deep down I felt that we had not yet solved the whole mystery. The fortress of Moggdelve was calling to us, and how, we were part of its history. Sometimes, deep down, you can feel the call of destiny. And I think I felt it - we all did, at that moment. And we will be the ones to finally put an end to it.

The Great Forge, back view

But for now, we are back in our fair city... waiting for that final call. And the second chapter of this book.

Our Caravan on way back to the Well

[Karwelas]

This book is dedicated to the memory of Nofri D'Ovidio, the brave scholar who gave his life on the trek to the kingdom of Kulkund.

Rest well, brother.

As I begin this text, I can't help but feel empty, even with our victory. We have lost one of our friends, and although we knew the risk, the taste is sour. But at least I believe we did the right thing. History will judge us, as it always does. Let us hope that the generations to come will be merciful in their judgement.

After our last adventure, we were called back by the Professor, this time to finally solve the mystery of Moggdelve. As we climbed into the wagon of Doran's caravan, I couldn't help but wonder how different our party was from the first journey. One of our fellow students, the witch Sayyida, turned out to be a necromancer and was killed while fleeing from the forces of the Law by none other than one of its current members - a strange twist of fate. I can't say I shed any tears at her death. It saddened me, but I'm no friend of the dark forces, and while I admire the pursuit of mystery, I know there are some things I wouldn't touch myself. Judge this passage as you will.

The members of the last trek to Moggdelve were
- Daoud Al-Maaz - student of the Blue Tassel, famous investigator, Ashfolk and citizen of Baz'eel.
- Zol Nur - student of the Sandstone College, Stonefolk, follower of the Wisdom of Divination and reader of Thrown Bones.
- Jordan Clearcreek - Student of the Sandstone College, Finder of Knowledge from Texts, Seeker of Truths.
- Andvari of the Lawcleaver Family - Dwarf, soldier of the Fourth Legion in the service of the Sultan of Baz'eel.
- Zauzar Davesk - The Leopard's Fury, member of the Torchbearers.
- Mirielle Rosseau - Balestiere of the Banda Rossa, Bard.
- Samira Al-Darwish - Balladeer of the Balladeers of the Lost Hearth, The Swift Blade.
- Isadora Amada Cordosa - Student of the Balladeers of the Lost Hearth, Bearer of the Lantern.
- Nofri D'Ovidio - A student of the Sandstone College, born and raised in Il Modo, he met his end in the dungeons of the Dwarven Kingdom. Lost, but not forgotten.
- Alecto Zagar - Yours truly.

- Zauzar among desert dunes.

- Jordan

- Avandari with his family heirloom Ring and Greatsword.

- Mirielle with her arbalest

- Daoud in his famous suit

- Yours truly, in his usual attire

On arrival, we were quickly briefed by the Professor - apparently, by cracking the codes from documents found in the Moggdelve, we had managed to find the resting place of 'The Lad', the dwarven hero known as Segmarianstone. The main problem was that he was buried in the crypts deep beneath the High Kingdom of Kulkund, which fell to war with the Thousand Clans and their brethren of the Lower Kingdom centuries ago. As such, we would have to find a way into it by the most surprising of means.

As it turned out, the ancient kingdom was full of technological marvels and underground mining roads that connected different parts of the mountain range. As such, we were privy to finding one of the roads - a giant platform that moved on a set of rails and giant gears, using them as wheels. But first we had to put it all in the right order - which we did, clearing out the last of the kobold tribe hiding in the tunnels below. They are no more among the living.

- The Gearways of Kingdoms of Kulkund

Let me tell you this - I am in this world for a limited time as one of the Awoken. Treat that as you will, but let me tell you... I have seen few things in this world, or my previous world, that can compare to the view of the Gearways. The mighty art, still functioning despite centuries of use and the passage of time, running through miles of dug tunnels and natural caverns, filled with life and crystals, glowing in the dark and illuminating the whole place. I have seen wonders that few mortals of the Ashes would ever see, and you are free to be jealous. Massive stalactites, with old dwarven posts dug into them. Mines still filled with ore, glistening in the darkness with more metals than I know of. Creatures and lights I could not explain. I have seen the wonder even in the faces of our most sour and realistic companions. The grandeur of the moment could not be understated.

- The Gearways Hub of Low Kingdom (with infamous crane)

Finally we reached our destination and again, let me tell you, it was a sight I never expected to see in my entire life. A gigantic hub of various Gearways routes, filled with mining carts and, to our horror, still in use by the Deep Dwarves. They had not stopped digging or working with the fall of the High Kingdom, oh no, if anything it made them work harder from now on. We were spotted and they demanded to know who we were - the brave and perhaps a little foolish Lawcleaver shouted his name and demanded to fight us - which they did. Using powerful stone constructs and the towering crane, which from time to time caught one of us and crushed him in its mighty jaws, we fought... and that is when we lost Nofri. He fell under a powerful blow from the crane's foreman, killing him in one fell swoop. Despite our efforts, we could not help him. Sometimes one cannot save another. Hiding his body in our return platform, we ventured deep into the depths of the Low Kingdom.

- Deep Dwarves forces.

- The stone construct of Deep Dwarves

We have seen dusty halls filled with rubble, but still in use for transporting ore. We have seen, in the distance, mighty forges and forgotten tunnels, abandoned to time and fate. We have climbed up and faced more deep dwarven forces before being forced down... into the crypts. Let me tell you, I have never felt so cold. I didn't even think that stone could give off such a cold. But as it turned out, it was not just a stone, oh no. The crypts, filled with tormented spirits, were a deadly danger. We fought these ghosts and laid them to rest, determined to find only one crypt from which to retrieve the body and artefacts.

Before entering the crypts themselves, we found a beautiful work of art - a mural on the floor. Surrounding the royal symbol of the High Kingdom were eight columns set with precious stones, representing the virtues and deeds of the revered Kinguards for whom they stood. We gazed upon this marvel of art before our dwarf companion found another door, into true crypts.

- The Stone Mural. The crown in the middle symbolizing the dwarven King, while eight pillars stand for revered Kingsguard and their deeds

We battled angry spirits and the dwarven architecture alike - hidden doors and traps, facing the prospect of getting lost in a place that was unfriendly to us in more ways than one, with mist slowly covering the halls as we wandered through them, threatening to awaken more spirits dreaming of their lost kingdoms and times past.

We rightly feared for our lives when one of our companions, the minstrel Samira, was drained of her life force - that was when the Orcan magic powder finally proved useful, restoring it to her. We were almost fooled a few times, but eventually we found the tombs of "Shield of the Deep" and "The Lad", whose tomb was buried under rubble that had obviously not been visited for years, if not decades. We dug it out with reverence - well, mostly Mirielle did, heh. I am not the one to claim work for what I did not do.

- The Crypts of Kingsguard.

- One of the dwarven ghosts, looking upon us from many dark tunnels...

There was some confusion as to which of the tombs was the right one - so both were opened, as Samira and her fellow balladeer were sure it was the Shield of the Deep we were looking for. She was quite insistent on the matter, but I cannot blame her - in the end she decided to put the burden of choice on our companion, Lawcleaver, as he was the only Dwarf in our current company. So he decided to take only the amulet, armour and body we found in the crypt of "The Lad", Segmarianstone, leaving the other body to its eternal rest. As we took it, we couldn't help but feel the weight of time rushing towards us after that timeless moment. I was the one carrying the bones in my pockets and I have to say that at that moment... I felt really strange. Smaller than usual. Lost, perhaps. It really occurred to me that this world, this true world as it turns out, is filled with stories upon stories, centuries upon centuries looking back at us and sometimes lost in the ruins of the Outer Rings, the story of the two Kingdoms, the story of King Owain, the mystery of the Sibilants and their Ziggurats and other stories, some of which are a threat even to know about.

As we gathered the things from the tomb, I couldn't help but feel that something was waiting for us... And we were not wrong. We were met by shocked troops of Deep Dwarves, wondering why we were charging into the crypts that even they avoided, leaving the dead in peace, but there was no time to negotiate with them. We knew that we were now known to their main forces, and with great speed we made our way to our platform vehicle, jumped on and began to ride back... as we laid the body of our companion among the rubble, we began to talk of what we had seen and done - if the body we had taken was the right one. It seemed even longer now, as we were tired and weary, sitting among the stones and feeling the windless wind tearing at us from the speed of the Gearway...

Here I must mention and send my greetings to one of the Banda Rossa - the Condottiera Paulina Capuano of Il Modo. Balestriere Mirielle was apparently almost certain that you would jump out at her from one of the gears, which is part of the training of the Rossan Scouring Corps. My deepest respect for making a woman like Mirielle jump at the mere thought of you, truly.

And then we came back to Moggdelve, as we grabbed both corpses - one old and one fresh, but both with a strange feeling of loss, at least for some of us. And that was when the ghosts of Moggdelve decided to play the last part of their story for us, as we stumbled upon a room that was not there before...

- The Room Unseen Before

The grave in the middle of the room was unmarked, but solid... and empty. As we walked towards it, I felt a sense of purpose that I had not felt since my awakening. There was a pull as I stopped at the coffin and laid the bones to rest in it, while my companions looked at me. The whispers, our constant companions, were still ringing in our ears. I looked at them as we faced a decision: return the body and the artefacts to the Professor, or lay The Lad to rest at last, at his home.

There was a discussion among us, a disagreement about what to do - and here I must mention something I did not expect to hear from one of our companions: disappointment. As we talked, I understood the position of Mirielle, who just wanted to get paid - that was her job. I understood the position of the Balladeer, perhaps out of greed, perhaps to pass on knowledge to other people. What I did not understand was the position of the student, Isadora Amada Cordosa, and her urge to "keep our word". You see, the Professor had little respect for his students - I must proudly admit that I drove one of our fellow students away from him by talking - and even less respect for his workers, risking their lives for his own glory in the mountains of the Old Dwarven Kingdom. There is little I judge people for, but the wanton disregard for life is one of them. I am no grave robber - for it was not a grave robbery, but an archaeological quest. But we were put in a situation where we could make a difference - where we could do something that was, in every sense of the word, right.

Isadora mentioned giving our words and her oath to the Rose - I know of her quest to return the Pilgrim and the Cup to Ephia's Well and restore the Garden Paradise as it was... but I have a question for you, reader - whether you are a student (perhaps even you, Isadora) or someone else. Would restoring the world as it was be worth sacrificing what makes us people? A sense of kinship with those who cannot find peace in the place where peace should be - the afterlife. To find ourselves in a situation where the end justifies the means, the only way to save this world... and would such a world be worth saving?

In my opinion: no. It's not the end that justifies the means. It is the means that justify the end. I am a person very much rooted in reality - it is a necessity of my work as a healer. I am a person who sees people shit and piss themselves on battlefields or boil themselves in fever, who cries out for forgiveness from gods, family, friends and enemies alike. Call me a fool if you wish - it is your right. But at the same time... I can't help it that when I pushed you away, when others of our companions placed the armour and amulet in the tomb and let it close, the whispers around us fell silent. And when I told you that I had done worse things to Rose, including sewing her insides together... I couldn't help but feel that for the first time in my life, since I've been here, I've done something RIGHT Something which even Samira admit, once the voices rang anew..

And by the gods, I was right, for when we heard whispers again, their song was different:

The Heart of the Forgefather, it has returned!

The lad... destroyed. Look at what they've done to our lad...

The Lad is a hero! Look, he sacrificed his own life!

The lad is home... home at last.

Moggdelve may have fallen, but this -- a testament to our greatness.

The King's live, saved. Praised be, Moggdelve!


"The Lad", raised to the ranks of the Kingsguard, sacrificed his life by shielding one of the dwarven kings with his own chest from a mighty bolt that shattered his armour - the Heart of Forgefather - and killed him. But in his sacrifice, he saved the life of his lord. And so was the story of Segmarianstone, "The Lad", one of the Kingsuards. And with these words, the spirits of Moggdelve were finally laid to rest after centuries of whispers and lamentations.

Before we went away, I wrote with magical ray upon the stone of tomb: "Segmarianstone, 'The Lad', Returned."

When we stepped outside, carrying the body of our companion, we were greeted by the Professor, who asked for the results, not even glancing at our dear friend... and so I knew we did the right thing. When I stood before him and told him the truth: we have buried them in a tomb that has sealed itself forever. As his disbelief turned to rage and he rushed into the mountain, I knew he would never be able to open it, not by mortal means. And with that, his great find was done for.

The next night, as we walked away and down the mountains while he went inside, Doran waved us together and told us he thought we had done the right thing - and gave us a gift, each of us, a coin with the symbol of Moggdelve on it and writing on the edge: "Guardians of History, Keepers of the Forgotten." I couldn't help but look at our friend's body, lying quietly nearby... I asked that we bury it with his own. He deserved at least that much. The mood around the campfire was mixed - some complained, some praised. Who did what I will leave as a mystery between us and the night sky.

 And as we bid each other farewell, I asked Doran to pass on my final message to the Professor: "We appreciate the Golden Shovel." And for those who may not know, let me explain the meaning. You see, when the founders of Sandstone... well, did just that, founded Sandstone College, they were given a powerful gift - the Golden Shovel - by their alma mater - the Great Academy of Baz'eel. But there was a hidden meaning behind it: "You're only good for shovelling," they said. But let me tell you something. We did exactly what the Professor asked - we shovelled. And later, when it was necessary, we buried.

We will treasure the Golden Shovel, oh Great Academy of Baz'eel - know that. We will treasure it as we dig deep into the secrets of this world and face what needs to be saved. Assuru, the Deep Court, the depths of the machine and deeper, all the way. We will face it and some of us will survive. And when that happens, this world will change, here, in Ephia's Well. And you know it.

But let me not trouble you with such things, reader. I hope you have enjoyed the story of our journey and the return of the lost dwarf to his home, to rest at last among the cold stones. Judge me as you see fit, for that is the purpose of books, and I am a mere character in them for you- but perhaps one day we will all be something more.

And perhaps we will all do something RIGHT.

In legends, a tale of valor and might,
'Twas 'The Lad' who stood for what's right,
A Kingsguard true, unwavering and bold,
Defending the throne, a story oft told.

In battles fierce, his sword flashed like fire,
With honor and courage, he'd never tire,
A guardian loyal, his oath he'd keep,
In the realm's darkest hours, his vigilance deep.

Yet fate's cruel hand, it did intervene,
As darkness approached, 'The Lad' stepped between,
A bolt aimed at his sovereign, a sacrifice made,
His life to protect, the ultimate trade.

Onward they journeyed, the adventurers brave,
With 'The Lad's' fallen form, his soul they'd save,
To his mountain home fortress, they carried him back,
Through perils and trials, on a perilous track.

Within ancient halls, where whispers had lingered,
'The Lad's' presence returned, to his fortress of old,
A hero remembered, his tale rekindled,
The mountain stronghold where legends were told.

But within these walls, echoes of the past,
Ghosts of the fortress, shadows amassed,
Restless spirits, yearning for peace,
In their spectral prison, they sought their release.

As dawn's first light bathed the mountain's crest,
The spirits at last found their well-deserved rest,
Their chains undone, their anguish ceased,
The fortress embraced a long-awaited peace.

In legends, 'The Lad' and the fortress unite,
A guardian's return, a magical sight,
A story of valor, courage, and grace,
In the mountain's embrace, they found their place.


End of Part 2, Final.