A Earthen Brown Leather Tome with Dwarven Runes and an Open-Palm Hand

[CrimsonMedicine]

Tammuz 15th, IY 7789

I did some boardwork. I did it to keep my mind from my task, my duties. To Formoria I went with others. Jamileh, Rynn, Aurelio, Kastante, and a new face, Keiji. It was a good distraction from the pain. We laughed, we joked, and I hope that I was able to make new friends. New allies, at least in part.

Formoria, I had wished to study all my time, yet I had none to spare. Quickly we moved, slicing through the tombs to fight the undead. I could only think of those I lost, my thoughts always on them. Then it drifted to curses, to dark magic too. A name was told to me when I tried to describe the one who bestowed knowledge to Shum. 

Uru, the Chronicler.

Who are they? Would they speak again? To me? Would they teach me too? Am I worthy?

---

More comfort. In the form of old but treasured friends, before I was much of anything. A student, freshly arrived. Theo, our Warrior. Reina, our Archmage. Nessia, our Sneakthief. Myself, our Priest. Together, we four adventurers would go and explore the lands and places. How I miss those simple times.

Reina spoke to me, shared words with me. Words I will carry with me. Etched upon my heart and in this diary of mine.

"You always tend to see the light of it all. It's something I look up to you for. Despite it all, you still live, you still continue. You don't give up where many would have. Your spirit is strong, Korin, it's admirable. Look to your friends, for they are there for you, and you have many. You are not alone." - Reina Fowler.

Her words came at a wonderful time. When I thought I was lost. Yet again, though, healing found me.

Then Nessia led a dig, one dedicated to my slain Brother; Tharrik. It was beautiful and I wept at her kind words uttered about him. Always curious was he, never missing a single dig. Always seeking evidence, always putting in the time, always wanting to learn. That was him. I won't forget how he would just know when a scroll was abnormal. Or how he knew to number them, or even that spells had numbers. He really was 'a dwarf that travelled with kindness and curiosity in his heart'.

---

I have since finished chiselling my kin's death to stone. Their names etched in the rock. Now I am to take them to the South, to this impromptu place where the Dwarves are remembered. Why did the Flamebringer choose that place? Was it the Sootbeards' death that brought it about? Now it has grown into something else, a site of the dwarven dead who've given themselves to the Well.

I finished at the right time, as soon as another prospect of the Rathgan emerged. A wise, gruff, and strong man. Gromnir arrived on the caravan today. Seeking the Rathgan. We spoke, sharing tales, origins, and formations of who we are as a group. I gave him the speech I said yesterday, and the offer. That in time, should he remain in the Well, he may find his home here.

We will see. I will be watching them both now with eager eyes.

---

Then, a call to the Tower. I am overjoyed with how much trust the Tower has in me, as I in them. I remember the early days. When Greydon would look at me with curiosity and suspicion. Black Tassel. That is what I was, still am, a scholar of the Esoteric, the strange, the unknown. How far I've come from those days of past. How far we all have come. Those that survived.

It is all Hashem. He has entrusted me to aid him, and I will not let him down. He saved me, he protected me. Giving me materials to survive the 'Fireball Palace'. Now I will save him. I will help him should he need it. My dearest companion.

For knowledge is to be gained when we work together, but now my stomach is full of warm tea, and I am eager to rest.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Tammuz 17th, IY 7789

A reporter came by the Hall today; Elongarth. She wanted to know about the three heroes, mainly Rhuk Nor. I spoke of him as much as I could, about the caring man I saw hiding behind the mask of the Fourth Legion. How he prayed and cared so deeply for those he stood beside. Izdihar al-Basri. How he mourned her loss when she fell.

I could see the man underneath that mask. I knew how much he wished to put the Scythe down, how tired he was, but he kept going. For everyone else. A hero.

---

Some time was spent with Nadiri Antonio looking for Cobblin... Cobbler? I'll be honest. It was a nice distraction from things. Though, it was a bit stressful tending the wounds of newer folk. I forget how fragile we are sometimes. Then I went on a dig, one dedicated to Narwen. The Flamebringer wrote about her a few times, how she was caring and compassionate. I thought it wise, then, to bring food dedicated to him, as a gift to honor her. A circle of sorts. I spoke of her, her kindness, her desire to help others, how she would buy wands from me to save lives, how she would trust in me to count out her coins, and in turn, I learned of the Ayyabassim.

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- A glimpse of the Ayyabassim as I fled the Silverworks.

They came to our aid, despite their past.

They live in shame for the loss of their brother in war. I can relate to them. I know the pain of losing someone. But they lost one, and I lost you after all, and five of our kin. Is my pain greater? I do not know. I try not to think of it in such a way. As if it is a competition of who is more hurt. Only that I know pain, and they know it too.

Is it wrong of me to think of myself during those moments we shared tales of Narwen, when they spoke of pain, of losing Narwen? Jamei had heard that Narwen fell. But, it was I who watched Ulfgrim die. I watched Yorin die. Swallowed up by the hordes of Orc'ah as they stood there, stunned. Their wounded bodies beyond my reach. I watched as they rose up. I watched as they walked toward me with their lifeless eyes. I watched Klaus and Droknar fall instantly. Their souls ripped from bodies via death magic. I watched Pauxillus be impaled upon the spears of Whisperers as he saved us. I heard the cries of Tharrik as unholy blades sliced him apart. I watched. I heard.

But no, I did not. There is no wisdom in comparing one's pain against another's. No gain in weighing suffering and forcing sympathy based on whose wounds seem deeper. We all suffer. We all feel pain.

And so, I continue to seek ways to distract, yes. But as I sit here, writing, I am faced with the finished tombstones, the grave markers of my friends. They stare at me whenever I walk into the Hall. My brothers. My love. I can't keep staring at these. Tomorrow, I will ask for aid. I will ask for help.

I need to place them amongst the sands. I need to keep living. Grief, it seems, can be found in all we do, in happiness, in sadness, in laughter, in tears, we remember. I remember.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Tammuz 19th IY 7789

So much can happen over the course of two days. What should I write about, all of it? What should I focus on? I suppose the best place is always the same, the beginning.

The 'Thoughtforms' cling to me now, too as if they are trying to know me. To see me. Having been around them before though, I understand them at least. I know to ignore them. I just worry for when they may show themselves around the uninitiated. Those who don't know them.

Is the Dark trying to take me away too?

Zhaerazel.

---

I fulfilled my promise to Ulfgrim, and placed the gravestones atop the hill to the South of the Well, in the ruined encampment. Where the stones of our other kin reside. A makeshift graveyard of dwarven names.

I did as you asked of me Ulfgrim. You're watching over Durgin and Grenth now. Always.

"So pale is the cactus bird – who sings her song at dawn's light, who laments the passing of night, her melodies seldom heard. Your song alights upon my ears, inviting and inciting me. To rise." - Endora Tofonia, a comforting prayer.

Now that hill is sacred to my people. It carries the weight of stone, the burden of memory, and the etchings now of names of those who died.

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- The stone of Ulfgrim Grimgarson, eternal vigil over kin on the hill of the Southern Encampment of Ephia's Well.

---

I distracted myself with some board work with Gromnir. To the isles of Ait Tujum. I've become somewhat proficient at undoing the workings of the Dark Wyldwalkers at the altar.

It's the little things that make me deem him worthy of being Rathgan. That's often all it is, all it takes to know someone's intentions. Covering me from the rain on Ait Tujum whilst I prayed for blessings, stopping and turning to ensure one was not left behind, giving items to someone who received none whilst their back was turned, thinking of others. It is this kindness that I look for. It is these kin who I wish to have at my side.

Thus, I have had him swear an oath to our stone, and he is now a part of the Rathgan. We grow, we heal, we recover.

---

Grief is a sad thing; it always catches up to us, no matter how far we go to avoid it. Yet in it, we can find community. Many gathered around the works of Kazadun, and the Preparators. A stone, fitting, carved with the names of those who died in Bet Nappahi. Those who gave their lives so that we would succeed.

Kazadun is a good man. Worthy. Honorable.

I spoke of kin, those who stood with me and never made it back, to see Home, or the Well again.

Then, more grief, the funeral of Narwen Alendiel. A caring and kind soul. Many rallied to see her off in the Plaza as well. I shed tears when I spoke of her once more. I think that I have no more tears left to give, and yet I surprise even myself sometimes when another finds its way.

We live on and remember the dead. The Rathgan who have fallen thus far, I continue on in their name. That is all we can do. Remember those that fell as we walked our path, honor them, and carry them forward with us in memory.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Tammuz 20th, IY 7789

It never is a dull day in the Well. At least, usually, and today was no exception of that rule. A goblin army swarmed the Well. If one can believe that. trying to get a 'Slip'. A piece of paper, a writ, that allows one to be inside of the Krak des Roses that was handed out by the Recluta to Mrs.Boon. A woman who has now, through some form of curse, been transformed into a goblin. They must have gotten their hands on it, or at least heard of its existence.

I heard that a similar incident occurred not but a week ago. Someone was transformed into a Hobgoblin. I don't recall the details of what happened to them.

Regardless, the goblins were expelled with some minor difficulties. Their numbers proved to be great, and I saw a few Ephians get swarmed and take some nasty wounds. Out of reach of my healing touch. In the end though, the goblins were removed. Thanks to Asherias' quick thinking, she was also able to lead a goblin with explosives strapped to its body out of the Krak des Roses.

---

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- Loneliness.

Gromnir is an official member of the Rathgan.

After the events of the Synod, which I will touch on in a moment, I took him to the Pyramid. I gave him the choice of becoming a dual-citizen, like myself, and joining Ephia's Well as an Ephian.

I even told him how important he had become to me. In the wake of losing six of my kin, six of my Rathgan. I grew lonely, as anyone would in my position. At least I hope. I thought I would be alone, but thankfully he arrived. He carries around with him his boulder, which makes me chuckle a bit every time I see it. Thankfully, when he loses the one he had, I can always make him a new one.

I'm glad to know that there are still Kin who come in from out in the sands. I wonder if my call helps. That they know there is a home here for them, waiting in the Well. A place to get one's bearings and eventually turn and look for a true home.

---

Somehow, I am Hakem now.

I fully expected to go in, sit down and ask the would-be Hakem some thoughtful questions. As someone of Izzakhar, we must do more than just say words, we must teach, we must guide, and how do you intend to do that?

Little did I expect to be elected to stand as Hakem. Thus, I did. I stood up and offered the bread to the flames. I spoke a little about what I would aim to do. To try and unify the Spokes through the Well, and help those we can. Each of the spokes can teach us a bit of wisdom, each one offering some tutelage.

Gratitude.

This is what Evarielle taught me, and it is what I would wish to teach upon the faithful and unfaithful alike. We must simply teach gratitude.

Sometimes Often, the mantle of leadership is often thrust upon us. Hanson as Sergeant, Me as Leader of the Rathgan, and now Hakem. Am I ungrateful? No. I will do the work that is required, but I must now work twice as hard. I must see my Rathgan succeed, my oath to my people. But, now I must also do more as a Speaker, do more duties to unify the Wheel.

Already, I have a task. Not just that, but The Holy Days are nearly upon us, the third Four-Wheels-Rounding. Just one electoral term, then I can let another stand as Hakem as long as I am not needed. I can do this. I'm not alone.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Tammuz 23rd, IY 7789

I've been dragging my feet as of late. Walking in circles around the Hall, unsure of where to go from here. With all my kin dead, the last of the Duunthall gone. Where does one go from here? What does one do?

It took me some time, but I've decided to host some things. To bring light to all the new folks minds, to tell stories, to share tales, and to help continue the legacy of those who walked before me.

On the 28th of Tammuz, I intend to return to Got Valdhazr. To search, and pray that anything, some kind of remnant, or clue, remains of the whereabouts of the Last Heir of Got Valdhazr. The quest of the Duunthall in hopes of finding home.

History must live on. That's what Bet Nappahi taught me. That death and war can take so much history away from the living, that things should not be kept inside one's head as much. To share knowledge in spread it among the masses. All those who were of the Duunthall are gone, and the first wave of the Rathgan is gone, save for me. Others must know our history. Our past. Our sacrifice.

---

My duties as Hakem keep me busy. I expected as much, but now so many people are speaking to me on things that I did not normally think they would. Politics being the main one. I try to think it is not just the title, but all that I have done. Helping those I can. Making things for others. Tending the many wounds of those beside me. Bringing ideas to those who struggle. Materials, reagents, alchemical creations, knowledge, history. I hope it's for these reasons.

Trust.

It takes a long time to build, but I hope I've gained that with those I care for.

---

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- New Horizons, Gates of Got Valdhazr opened.

Tonight, I placed the little statue of Ulfgrim beside the bunks.

I keep looking at his likeness, and I feel the silence settle. That particular kind of silence when grief has long passed its storm and become something slower, colder. A quiet that follows you, never loud, but never quite gone.

I miss him more in the quiet hours than I let on.

Even stone weeps, given time.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Tammuz 24th, IY 7789

Today was the Four Wheels Rounding.

It was a good Holy Day, I was gladly led around by a new Priest to the Well, Jedediah. He told a story of a goat and a man wandering the sands. Lost for a time, praying to Warad for guidance. And so He answered, the blowing of winds, the subtle changes in motion, guiding him all the while.

Even I still have lessons to learn from the Wheel. There are some Spokes that I wish to know more of, so that I may speak with more confidence regarding their domains, their tenets, and how to best worship and serve them.

However, today, on this Holy Day, I learned four lessons:

- The Wanderer is ever present.

- We remember that there is humble beauty in the austere.

- We remember that it is hardly ever too late for deliverance.

- We remember those who carved the roads before us, and prepare for those who walk them after.

[A small teardrop finds its way to the page after the fourth lesson is written.]

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- A simple wayshrine to Warad.

---

I saw two men fighting naked today. Inside the Krak's Arena. I wasn't really expecting it, but that happened. They asked me to [The rest of the entry is scratched out.]

---

I've been thinking a lot about Got Valdhazr. Some folks have approached me, warning me about opening the gates. Keiji brought words of wisdom. He worries about what the gates are sealing away from the Disc. Inside are spirits, of that I have no doubt. My kin of Got Valdhazr were betrayed by the Well, or at least, Rennik Colmes. -- Of whom is dead now -- So perhaps they will seek vengeance.

Got Valdhazr dwarves follow Umbur, the Earthquake, so it stands to reason that they would be upset and seek blood-for-blood. If vengeance brews, it may be loud, and unsealing the gates may spell doom for some.

Still, I believe the coming expedition may shed light on the truth. We may yet hear the echoes from behind the sealed gate. Whispers of the dead spirits. Or we will get to witness the phantom of the Flamebringer. Visiting the site of his great funeral pyre.

What I am most hopeful of though, is perhaps we will find remnants of the Last Heir Prince. A clue regarding their location now that the Orc'ah have no leader. Or at least some trace of their fate. It's a long shot I know, but I have to start somewhere.

I've some work to do with the Tower. The Dark requires my light to ward off...

Though, I would at least like to write that I am thankful that I have Gromnir with me. I'm not entirely alone.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Tammuz 27th, IY 7789

Today was a hectic day. After spending a few days walking the sands in pursuit of knowledge. A small pilgrimage, I return to aid friends in a task. One to push back the Darkness that dangers those I care for.

I aided in fighting against the Dark itself. A being of pure umbral energy amidst the Firmament. It was all encompassing, everywhere. I understand the saying

"It is not the darkness we fear, but what lurks inside it."

Something I've been studying ever since my time in the Sandstone as a Black Tassel student.

After we brought the light we held inside of us to the Dark, a shadow of an Elf appeared, speaking of Vellyns past. It is not my story to tell, so I will not write of its entirety, but to summarize, it speaks of a home once had, a garden of a sort, and now regrown far out in the stars.

I've seen how darkness can claim things. I've not just seen, but known how it can take things, but with an overwhelming amount of light together, we can bring things back. The forest grew again, from black nothingness to its full greenery. It reminded me of Bet Nappahi, of the lush and full jungles. It also reminded me of home, of Kulkund, the many large and towering trees that dot the mountain. Far enough from the Ash that it remains. For now.

Let your name be remembered by me, and by whoever finds this tome when I am no longer here;

Zirael. Warden of the Verdant Forests among the Firmament.

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- The Bramble's Patch.

---

Then, from task to task, one after the other. I gathered the faithful o f the Wheel to meet at the Synod. To speak on matters of faith that had been brought to me by others.

We spoke of the Purple league, of the drug situation around the Well, and information regarding the search of the three missing bodies. Then, came the main reason I called the Synod. The vote for which Spoke to place upon the Stele in these times.

It was a close call between the Hearthmaiden and the Hidden River. Three votes for Kardun, two for Baalera, and one for Umbur.

However, things can never be as simple as I'd like them to be. Upon taking the voices of the Synod to the Legate of Gold, Vellyn. She declines our notion. She declines it because the last time that Kardun was upon the Stele, Inanna was murdered, assassinated. I understand her pain, I do. I sympathize with it, however, the divine order and votes of the Speakers of the Well decided the Kardun would be on the Stele. Nature to heal whilst we heal alongside it, the great loss that Bet Nappahi sustained as the Ash swallowed it. The Disc needs green life to grow once more while we build.

But, no. Vellyn declines such. I've given her one day to reconsider. I hope she does see wisdom. One Speaker does not represent the entirety of the Gods. Otherwise, there would only be one Speaker for each Spoke, and that is not the case. We are but mortals speaking with a small fragment of the gods. Gifted with their blessings to enact their will.

Kardun will be placed upon the Stele.

Though I prefer to walk the gentle path, in doing so, even if it is the slower one. I pray my kindness pays off.

---

Another of kin to join us, the Last, the Rathgan.

Rathsvit Khuzdul. 

He may not be the smartest dwarf I've met, but his heart is twice the size and he is patient. He waited for me to bring him into the fold, and was understanding of how busy I have been as of late. I appreciate such. I've seen how he fights too, it reminds me of Ulfgrim.

Speaking of. I had thought I had cried all the tears I could for him. I lay awake at night staring, just staring at the statue made of him. Sometimes I half-dream he might burst forth in a beam of light from said statue, but I know the truth. 'A time where lovers shed their tears'. I eagerly await the end of Tammuz. I'm tired of crying, but tonight?

I think I'll shed some more.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Tammuz 28th, IY 7789

I walked not to my home, but to my cousins' home.

Got Valdhazr.

A few joined with us; the Rathgan, and those of whom I would be glad to call friends. As we walked I told them the story of Durgin Doomed-Oath. At least, as best as I could recall, time twists things. It is a shame that the historians of the Duunthall, the Flamebringer. Did not etch history to stone. Some of the papers are burned and covered in blood.

A sad thing for the Stone remembers.

When we arrived after the tale, the search began for any clues about the Prince, the last heir. Sadly, nothing of note was found. Sure, the Orc'ah had moved away from the Hold. I had seen the hordes onrush around Got Valdhazr before, but now? It was eerily quiet, save for the whispers of my dead kin inside the Hold. Though, the spirits from behind the gates did speak.

'Bring Death to the Murderer.'

It seems that hatred for the Second Spoke is still well-kept amongst the dead.

The spirits of the dead are still restless inside. Maybe that's my goal? To give them the rest they've been robbed of. So that they might meet their doom with the joy that those of Got Valdhazr longed for so long ago?

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- An unknowing rendition of Got Valdhazr's Halls.

There are those close to me who say they have a way to open the doors, but is that what we want to do? It was a promise I made to those who came before me. To Ulfgrim, to the Duunthall. I must ensure it's safe to do so, and a kingdom with a king is hardly that. I need to find the Prince. Thus, my search, and the Rathgans, continues.

When the stars align, the Gates of Got Valdhazr will open once more. The lost songs sung in Got Valdhazr will not be the last. It will hear song again.

I did flee the Raging Sky, so much did I fear the Heavens; the wrath of those who were wroth, who would forbid my dreams of a world where beauty is king.

Wisdom, light my way.