A Letter to Admiral Tarath Longinus

To Admiral Tarath Longinus,

     Per your request, I have located a member of one of the many zang clans that is willing to speak with a surfacer. Finding one was much more difficult than I originally anticipated, and I am now writing to you from a mostly sunken city called, assuming that the translation potions are working correctly, Akkardon. From what I can tell it serves a similar role as Argoport, a hub of trade for the whole region. I’ve even seen two sea gnome ships meeting and exchanging goods.

Blood in the Water

     The nervous seaman looked over to his captain at the front of the boat, before cautiously asking the question that was at the forefront of his mind, "Cap'n, ya sure this is a good idea?"
     Turning his head so that his steely gaze locked eyes with the question asker, index finger pointedly stroking the hilt of his sword. The lone blue eye, like chips of ice for all the warmth they held, stared into the mud colored eyes of the ship hand, the only other acknowledgement of his question being a single raised eyebrow.

Iconic Barbarian: Ragnoth Frost Serpent

Playing Ragnoth Ragnoth lives by a code taught to him by his uncle: “Die on your feet, or live on your knees.” By his understanding, a person that does not choose his own fate is a slave to those that would choose it for him. When utilizing his rage, he is imagining the presumptuous noble that thought to determine Ragnoth’s fate.

Ragnoth Frost Serpent        

Male Half-Orc Barbarian 1

CN Medium humanoid

Init -1; Senses darkvision; Perception +1

Defense

AC 13, touch 9, flat-footed 13 (+4 armor, -1 Dex)

HP 21 (1d12+9)

Fort +7; Ref -1; Will +1

Offense

Speed 30 ft.

Melee scythe +4 (2d4+4/*4)

Ranged orc war bow +0 (1d12/*3)

Special Attacks rage (9 rounds/day)

Statistics

Str 16, Dex 8, Con 20, Int 12, Wis 13, Cha 10

Base Atk +1; CMB +4; CMD 13

Feats Toughness

Skills Acrobatics +0, Climb +4, Knowledge (nature) +6, Survival +5, Swim +4; Armor Check Penalty -3

Traits killer, savage*

Languages Common, Orc, Halfling

SQ fast movement*, orc blood, orc ferocity, intimidating

Equipment scythe, orc war bow, quiver with 80 cold iron arrows, hide armor, barbarian’s kit

* The effects of this ability have already been calculated into Ragnoth’s statistics

Far From Home

     He hit the ground with a loud grunt. Growling deep in his throat, Ragnoth pushed himself to his feet as his opponent tried to collect her breath. Tightening his grip on his polearm, Ragnoth rushed at the woman that had attacked him with the rest of the bandits she was with. Was.

     Out of a small group of three bandits, only the woman was left. That is not to say that they died easily. Ragnoth, their intended prey, was badly injured. Cuts covered his arms, one over his left eye effectively left him blind in that eye, three teeth had been knocked out of his mouth, his chest would be a mass of bruises in the morning, and from the feel of it at least one rib was cracked if not broken.

     The bandit woman raised her shield to intercept the point of Ragnoth’s war-scythe. Shifting his grip, Ragnoth changed the angle of his attack. Instead of striking at her chest, he targeted her legs. The tip of his blade bit deeply into muscle and nicked bone, causing a veritable fountain of blood to weep from the wound.

     Dropping to the ground with a scream of agony, the bandit woman tried in vain to staunch the blood seeping from her thigh. With a glare, Ragnoth pushed himself upright and wiped off the blood from his scythe using the tunic of the crying, panicking woman.

     “You thought three were enough to kill me. You were wrong,” Ragnoth growled at the soon to be dead woman as he hobbled further down the road; from the way his hip flared in pain with each step he must have twisted it one of the times that he was knocked down.

     If there was one thing that Ragnoth was good at, it was getting up when he was knocked down. He’d been doing it his entire life. First in the ring against his full blood peers, and then amongst the lowlanders in the southern lands.

     Admittedly, he thought to himself, not all the lowlanders were soft. The alfar Jadra is lethal with that curved blade of hers, and her mixed blood companion utilized a shield like it was a part of his body.

     The half-orc had encountered the two travelers on a road much like the one he hobbled down, nearly a year ago. He had been newly arrived in the Green Coast, having stowed away on a ship leaving Eszath for Argoport, and happened upon the camp that the elf and half-elf had made shortly after dark.

     The two companions offered to share their campfire, an offer which Ragnoth could scarcely refuse. Offering to share the tubers and root vegetables that they had scavenged, he in turn offered to share the brace of rabbits that he had shot just before stumbling upon their camp.

     While normally using one of his clan’s war bows would be deemed excessive to hunt rabbits, it was the only means of hunting the speedy animals. When he explained this to his dinner companions as the half-elven man stirred the meat and vegetables into a stew, Jadra asked to see his clan’s war bow.

     After carefully handing the bow to her, Jadra almost immediately concluded that the draw weight was impractically heavy for more than exceptional individuals. She was barely able to pull the arms close enough together to string the bow, and while she had the strength to draw the string back, her arm shook and her fingers were numb after releasing the string.

     Ragnoth decided not to tell her that he sometimes had difficulty with the draw weight himself. He did tell her that amongst the orcs in Sylvanor, being able to string and draw back the bow is a common, widespread rite of passage for both men and women. You were considered a child until you had the strength to make use of the bow. You weren’t considered an adult until you killed something like a bear or a caribou on a hunt with it.

     Shaking his head to chase away the memories, Ragnoth squinted his eyes to try to get a better look at the building off in the distance. It was getting late and he needed a place to either stay or camp for the night. It looked to be a farmhouse, so he could probably trade manual labor for a roof over his head while he slept. A plan in mind, Ragnoth picked up his pace to the farmhouse.

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From the Journals of Algren Twinbraid

My name is Professor Algren Twinbraid, a researcher and archaeologist from the University of History in Eszath. I do not know if anyone on the surface will ever read these entries, but I still feel the necessity of recording my thoughts and experiences.

Cosmology: The River of Dreams

By far the largest of the planes, some scholars feel that it belongs within a separate category, for it defies most attempts at fitting the definition of a plane of existence. No creatures summoned from it can describe it to researchers, so scholars are forced to extrapolate what they can from the bits and pieces that ancient texts describe and the rigors of conjuring its inhabitants.

     Like all planes, there are creatures that call it home. The most well-known are the water elementals, entities composed entirely of the stuff of the plane. Unlike the other planes, very few permanent settlements exist. These settlements act as neutral grounds between the inhabitants of the planes of Urzalak and Yinnola. On rare occasions, the largest of these settlements see fiery visitors from Zarth’s corpse on some mission that takes them away from their home. Some scholars theorize that the nature of the River prevent any such settlements from forming, the River reflects the minds that inhabit it after-all. Despite this malleability, or perhaps because of it, the River follows no consistent logic outside of the more stable settlements.

An Introduction to the Planes

Pay attention apprentice, today we will begin your studies into the Art of Conjuration. No, you will not be summoning an Archdevil or a Solar, though I understand the excitement. My master Tobias caught me sneaking into the Summoning Chamber more than once. Oh the lectures I received.

     I digress, we will begin with an overview of the planes of existence. Seeing as how I recruited you from a farming village, I would assume that you are not familiar with the term? Calm yourself apprentice, that was not an insult. Allow me to fill you in on a secret: I was raised born to a blacksmith. I understand entering a world so different than what you are used to.

Kyrnash, Lady of the Forest

"How would I describe Kyrnash? I would say that she is all that is nature. She is kind, she is ruthless, she is cruel, she is motherly; basically, if an adjective applies to the world outside of cities, it applies to her."
  - Old Growth Edric Greenbeard

Alternate Names: Hellededd (elf), Soliturae (gnome), Tasagdo (orc), Wegleas (halfling), Zerloi (dwarf)
Expanded Domains: Animal, Decay, Earth, Fire, Growth, Plant, Seasons, Water, Weather
Portfolio: animals, forests, seasons, stone, volcanoes

Knowledge (religion) DC 10:
The eldest of Aelma and Erb's children, Kyrnash shaped the lands when the world was forged. Known as Lady of the Forest and Mother of Beasts, Kyrnash designed and created nearly every animal after she created the wilds. She tore water from the sky to fill lakes, pulled the mountains from the ground, created predator and prey. Prayers are made by hunters for her grace, and settlements of all sizes make offerings of incense and the destruction of axes and saws to avert her wrath. It is said that villages that do not make acceptable offerings to Kyrnash find their crops suffering from blight, decaying when they should be flourishing.
     Acolytes dedicated to Kyrnash are called Saprolings, and upon finishing their training they are elevated to Growths. The highest ranking members of Kyrnash's followers are Old Growths, sometimes called Archdruids by outsiders. In art, Kyrnash is most frequently depicted as a black-haired woman clothed in rustic leather with a hunting bow. Often birds and small forest animals such as squirrels and foxes are depicted either next to her or on her shoulders.

Scholarly Theories: Sylvanor Minotaur

To the Esteemed Mage-Scholar Annuwyl Aethlyn of the Wainryn Royal Academy of The Art,

I write to you, this seventh day of Aesto, to document my findings thus far on what some of our colleagues have dubbed "the Sylvanor Minotaur." I can understand why some would call it that, though this northern variety of the breed is far more horrible to behold than the ones further south.

Picture, if you will, a creature that, were it to stretch itself upright, stands nearly thirteen feet tall from the top of its skull to the bottom of its hooves. If you add the antlers, then it stands closer to sixteen feet tall. Despite its height, which normally is around ten feet due to a stooped posture, I would be surprised if it weighed more than two hundred twenty pounds! The thing looks to be positively starving, despite eating an entire cow, bones and all, in the span of ten minutes!

I digress, the anatomy of this creature is astounding! Despite seeming to be skin and bone, it possesses strength similar to it's Green Coast cousins and is much more agile. In addition, its hands possess a mere three digits: two fingers and a thumb. Each is topped with a vicious claw, which I have seen rend boiled leather like it were parchment. A certain kind of low-quality steel seems to work best at stopping its claws for some reason, perhaps it doesn't like the feel of the metal?

Its head is long, perhaps two and a half feet, and for all intents and purposes looks like the skull of a stag. The biggest difference is in its eyes, white glowing specks of light surrounded by pits of darkness. While not the most obvious difference, that distinction belongs to the rows and rows of sharp, shearing teeth, something within those eyes...I can only describe it a torturous, maddening hunger. If you were to walk down the back allies of Argoport and look into the eyes of the homeless that hadn't eaten in a week, you would not see even a fraction of the hunger contained within those otherworldly eyes.

Your friend and colleague,
Mage-Scholar Rhydian Llewelyn of the University of Eszath

Argovas, the Trade Prince

"It has been five years to the day that our fair town was founded, let us celebrate!"
  - last sober words of the day by Mayor Brimbol of Mudshire

Alternate Names: Ceapuna (halfling), Civimerc (gnome), Kereskizac (dwarf), Khudirgen (orc), Maswareid (elf)

Expanded Domains: Artifice, Community, Earth, Law, Metal, Nobility, Toil, Trade, Travel

Portfolio: affluence, alcohol, brewing, civilization, gold, rule of law, trade, wealth

Knowledge (religion) DC 10
Called the Trade Prince and Count of Coins, Argovas is one of the most widely revered of the deities in the Green Coast. Brewers and merchants from the Veridian Mere as far north as Sylvanor make regular offerings in his name for safe streets and good business. Taverns pour the first pint a night into a glass that isn't drunk to honor his gifts. Nobles make regular offerings of wealth to the Church to encourage their works.
     In art, Argovas is often depicted surprisingly simply. A clean-shaven human male working in the sun, torso bare. The priests of Argovas are called Laborers, the acolytes Tools, and the knights that swear their swords to him are called Coins.