Wevv’s Appendix #0489
:: Wevv’s Trial :: “In The Water Of The Aberrant, pt one” ::
“Swimming deep into the cave, the ancient energy still tingles in my arm as we swim. My new friends don’t see my shame.

We enter the large cavern, sunlight falls down through a tiny hole at the top. In the waters around us, facets of aura quartz reflect the light as cacophonies of dust twitter, coming from nowhere, in the air & water.

A host of large & strange water insects skulk in the waters surrounding the bizarre metal craft. Its form riven by sheets of rust, the shape is still unmistakably other-worldly. The psionic emanations are stronger here, reaching deep into our minds.

The insects charge toward us, almost ceremonially, & the calm waters part as we approach the vessel. They don’t buy our ruse & we draw blades against them. Grappling with their blank minds I’m distracted by their pincer arms, barnacled in the same quartz of this strange thing. The Dark-eyed Templar falls, at the vessel’s edge, sinking slowly.

& then it rises, out of the water. A brain-shaped thing. Maw-covered tentacles hanging down below. Its beak, the only feature of its face, nips spastically at the air around it. We hold."

Wevv’s Appendix #0409
:: Wevv’s Trial :: “Ay’mad, His Mistress & The Challenges Outside of Tyr” ::
“My Party marches on in their path as I’m overtaken by the circumstances of these past months, straddled by touching the darkness of my Sister-Elf’s mind. The Blackness consumes me, tunnel-vision forming around my every sense of perception. I follow my prayers as The Players head out.

The sight of the horizon, endless & hazy as the heat melts the air above the sand, loosens the grasp of The Black in my mind. But its influence, alters things. I’m still out of phase with reality but images form in the hours of the march out of Tyr. The sickness in my psyche peaks harder than ever, my eyes burn black & blue.

Parched, I see That Black Tower everywhere. I see two hands, covered in fine metal gauntlets, more poured than carved. Its form draped in a near unending starry dark viscous cloak — alive with The Defiling Dark still lingering in my psyche. Firery puss yellow eyes float glowing against the completely tattooed skin of its face — sharpened & deformed through some dark pact. It sits atop a throne, perched on a platform-less ziggurrat, its aura reaching into the recesses of a room more suited to some bizarre ritualistic animal slaughterhouse.

Instead there are … littering its throne room, giant racks, half-bodies stapled & screwed to them. Blood. & … Dust. & the smallest bits of the souls that left this plane here ooze into grates strewn randomly throughout the sickly black-red stone work of the decaying floor.

An evil thing, a woman, perhaps formerly an elf — now possessed with the unbalanced evil of its master’s touch — adorned with the most abhorrent pieces of humanity available, leisurely inscribes a cruel patchwork of artistry & misery on a small human boy.

Its silvery hands move slowly & gracefully, as if to a distant beat. Until they don’t. Springing to life. Dealing out its deathly touch. It points & the circulatory system of the boy dissolves into the nothingness of its touch. He quivers then slumps finally as he touches The Gray. & on.

Its mind stabs at me then, even in these oblique images. The pain slowly forces itself out of me. It retreats & Her blessing returns. Water returns to my lips & the sun no longer blackens my gaze.”

Wevv’s Appendix #0413
:: Wevv’s Trial :: “An Aquifer of Tyr” ::
“After half-days travel from Tyr, we found the seemingly abandoned Gith camp, at the base of a cliff wall. There’s a passage, inside the face. There’s something in the air, a psionic wind emanating from this place. I feel a particular verb, the sounds of dripping water, like the most sacred places of home. I pray to Her, The Water Spirit, hoping this is the place. But I am too weak to conjure Her power to this plane.

Inside there is clay, shifting beneath us as we crawl into the mouth of the aquifer. Ja’Amun & I slip down into the lair. Foolishly I approach to fast, a tendril-tongue glints in my eye & I poke too closely with my mind. It snaps at me & I phase just barely out of its way. We push our way in as the trap closes its maw. They snap at us, pulling us to them, deep into the height of the cavern. But our strikes are swift & by the sand at our heels we wipe out the chitinous brood. The entrance is sealed, with us & whatever else lays inside this glorious place.

I swim in the water, trying to be amazed to be back in its grace as it glistens by our torch light. This other psionic force inside my mind is ancient, seeming to permeate everything about this place. We gather from, the most iron I have ever seen in one place, as many pieces as we can. I gulp of this pure water heavily as I swim through its shadows.”

Wevv’s Appendix #0414
:: Wevv’s Trial :: “The Silent Mind of My Sister-Elf, pt two” ::
“In the recesses of The Aquifer at Tyr, the ancient aberrant psychic energy lashes out at my Sister-Elf’s mind. She screams; falls ill. Some psychic vision is infiltrating her mind, in seconds she’s writhing in agony. I hear Its Darkness in her voice & fear grips me again.

I must stand strong, draw the aberrant power of this place into my mind & trying to shield myself from the darkness of its touch this time as I attempt to peer into her mind. I draw it into me, through the water, reaching out with my left hand to touch Lorne’s mind.

My finger connects, just barely with her temple, & the three psionic powers collide knocking me back & up into the air. Tendrils of psionic sparks whip around, immobilizing me there, suspending me by the tip of my left index finger. The blue lightning shoots out from the larger metal fragments in the water, through me, then down to my Sister-Elf. The psionic energy burns. I let out a sharp scream as I hear a brittle crackling & pain rakes through my left arm. I look to it, it’s form shifting to a icy crystalline lattice where my muscles & skin used to be. The veins, nerves & bones now exposed inside of the transparent polyhedronal surface of my new grotesque arm.

The sounds of its crystalline structure solidifying sends shivers throughout my psyche as the aftershocks of the transformation take hold. I hear a cackling, from The Black Tower in my mind, the curse of my own impetuous nature now made manifest in my physical form. This foul mark, this cursed non-flesh, my pride solidified into its horrid shape. I am no longer Drak, instead something else, far darker & stranger. I will forever be an outcast to my people, the creator of my own banishment as I lusted for the power to save the Drak way of life.

I feel a strange new power manifest in my mind, that I can not control. It desires to lash out at all who approach me, requiring only the slightest provocation to make its power manifest around me uncontrollably. The presence of The Water Spirit washes through me, flowing through the new hard surface of my arm. It calms me — as I see that at least She has not forsaken me.”

Wevv’s Appendix #0415
:: “The Cursed Drak” ::
“There are stories told to young Drak training to be battleminds, of the foibles of the overly ambitious, whose lust for power causes their psychic presence to become manifest & permanently mutate their physical form. Such Drak are banished from the tribe for their personal greed, unable to pursue the fruits of a good life within the bounds of the drake’s habit.”

:: You are a foulborn. Your origin changes to aberrant, and you are considered an aberrant creature for the purpose of effects that relate to creature origin. You have the Unbalanced Mind power. ::
:: Unbalanced Mind * Encounter * Immediate Reaction ::
:: Trigger: You take damage from an attack.
:: Effect: Until the end of your next turn, any creature that enters a square adjacent to you or ends its turn there takes 5 psychic damage.

Wevv’s Appendix #0313
“AZUR. AZUR FOLLOW JA’AMUN. INTO MINES OF IRON. WATCH HIM SHOW THEM THE WAY. HIS LIFE IS YOURS. I BIND YOUR DANGER TO HIS. KEEP HIM SAFE THROUGH HER BLESSING. THE DEFILER’S MIND SEES HIS THOUGHTS.”

Wevv’s Appendix #0314
:: Wevv’s Trial :: “The Bard, The Mines & The Newly Free.” ::
“The Talented Bard continues to regale The Newly Free with his tongue. I follow, out of earshot of his silver words. He sways them well & the people love his antics. I prefer his somber songs, between the heated moments where life lay at the next line of his tune.”

Wevv’s Appendix #0325
:: Wevv’s Trial :: “The Crafting of The Crafter.” ::
“Never removing the skins of her office, the Fire-y Druid erects her two tents. I watch as she works the hides of beasts, offering assistance as I can, the smells & process reminding me of the joys of a wake back home.

She carves beautifully, first a fine bone flute for The Popular Bard, then a Dazzling Singing-stick for The Imminent Templar. She sells other wares, establishing a powerful face in the former coliseum of tears.”

Wevv’s Appendix #0333
:: Wevv’s Trial :: “The Templar’s Eye.” ::
“This Other Templar, he is not like the others. His will is devout, to some other thing. His sees strength in righteousness but does not let him bind him from action. His followers grow throughout whispers in the city of our deeds.

His fortress, his Eye, rests just close enough to his pillar in The Warrens to allow us to move without check into & out of it. He gives to me a small room. The walls offer excellent training space to hone my psionic abilities. The new owner seems not to mind the occasional psionic pierce of the walls.

The furniture of the previous occupant reeks of disrepair, creaking with homespun quality. It feels warm with the voices of groups varied templar unhappy with the new order of things. Their commanding opinions ricochet off one another in the candle-lit night-meetings. I listen, mystified by their ability for intrigue. Jealous of their ability to plan for a future different than the past. I listen inspired by their debate one night as Synkayvitch hushes the room as he plants on the table a pint of black mud from the streets outside. He dips his hand in it, up to the fine edge of his templar cloak & fists black to his face, smearing a thick line across it.

A pause, the room snuffed of reaction, he says, ‘we stand apart now.’

Wevv’s Appendix #0342
:: Wevv’s Trial :: “The Thri-kreen’s Calmness.”
“The Monk ploughs at her mind, deep tracts of vileness inside. Her Calmness, such a contrast to most of her people, veils herself in the strength of the sand, its blight unable to invade deeper than its surface. I knew she would see.

She whispers constantly, to the people we pass, in a mix of common & ‘kreen. Something about illicit tribe & iron trading. I understand little of the plot, learning of the thri-kreen tongue is fobid by Drak law. She watches The Slave Kreen intently, its quest for iron somehow linked to all of this. I trust her in battle implicitly yet the traditions of my people’s forbid further.”

Wevv’s Appendix #0389
:: Wevv’s Trial :: “A Pitch of Memory.” ::
“The blackness of the Sister-Elf’s mind will not leave. I feel it throughout me, on my skin, touching everything around me. Who is she. What could possibly be inside of her to have … this be her mind. I fear we may all be players in her game, not our own, whether she knows it or not. Her blade never fails, I hope never to have to cross it. & then she sacrifices for us, His Spirit & mine, to regain the implements of my training. Risking her life for me, not knowing why she should. The enigma of her amnesia stretches wildly into our lives.”

Wevv’s Appendix #0391
:: Wevv’s Equipment :: “Synk’s Sticks” ::
“A singing stick, carved by our Mirri for the templar turned to Synkayvitch’s path. An elegant weapon, from a simpler time. Presented to me by the man himself, the weight of its sentiment means much to me.”

Wevv’s Appendix #0301
:: Wevv’s Trial :: “In The Fall, & In The Wake of The Fall” ::
“I sacrifice, to The Water Spirit. I feel ice within me as Her power manifests. I draw its form out of my mind, sharp & strong — my psionic rapier.

Then — tremors. Gladiators & serpents, The Matron Thri-kreen, The Silent Elf & The Crafty Druid & The Intimidating Swordmage. A black shape, an abominable creature dissolving slaves in its maw. A pain in the deep of my mind; The Tyrant’s dark magic.

The Seer; she knew.

We watched from the crowd, at the top of the stairs, Ja’Amun, The Conniving Bard & I, the explosions rang, as The Tyrant of Tyr fell. His tower burst into rubble, his pantheon of aristocrats diced by our strike. His people, freed, ran to our sides, & out into the rest of their lives, unaware of exactly what horror was almost visited upon them.

Azur, my new friends & I, we freed The City of tears.

For a moment, anyway. After … it was different. Something that was supposed to happen — didn’t. Despicable Templars abusing their power, the bonds of The City’s machinations slipping out of control, into chaos & disrepair.

Caught in the aftershocks of political & physical intrigue in The Wake of The Fall, we secured our resources, calmed, coerced & usurped a hold deep in the workings of The New Free City, attempting to cement ourselves into its new gears.”

Wevv’s Appendix #0342
:: The Slient Sister-Elf’s Mind, pt one ::
“The Black Sand. A tower, I see it in the elf’s mind — she screams. Throbbing in my mind, for days. Covering everything I experience, the texture of it challenges my grip on perception. Everything in this city already covered in grime, now it moves, shifts, as if it is alive with this defiled presence in my mind. I must get out of this city, onto the seas of sand to rid my mind of this infestation. The Matron Thri-kreen will find what is in her mind. Her calmness sees the truth that I can’t.”

Wevv’s Appendix #0350
:: The Templar Mun ::
“A Mul Templar of Tyr, older than most but still in his prime, his skin is very pale now & the few tattoos he wears are long thin blue lines, like veins — or vines — twisting around him sparsely. He is gruff & loathes all joy, music & merriment. He owns a residence in the Templar District of Tyr, very near to the location of The Swordmage’s Eye. He escorted a cache of slaves gifted from Balic, Wevv included, & temporarily held possession of his Heirloom Items until The Players rescued them. It is unclear exactly what position he now holds after The Fall, as quite dramatically he no longer bears the harsh tan of a slave master yet still appears to be at the top of his art.”

Wevv’s Appendix #0351
:: Under The Moon & Mun ::
“They find him, Mun. They are so wise, my friends — so many things we Drak are not. I watch as they approach his home, I’m frozen — petrified, completely without control. Unable to assist in any way, The Silent Elf sneaks in as The Templar returns from his rounds. That Conflicted Bard tells the worst limerick of his life & Mun pushes past us. I watch, horror-ed as he opens his door. But then, as always, Her Calmness, The Matron, she saves Our Sister. She saves His Soul. She saves mine.”

After the arduous trials of the slave pits and heroic efforts of our protagonists and their fellow Veilled Alliance comrades, Tyr has been freed from the tyrannical reign of Sorcerer-King Kalak, and many millennia of oppression.

These events take place during the weeks following that fateful day in Tyr’s Coliseum:

• Kalak is not seen or heard from by anyone, and his body is not found amidst the rubble of the golden wall. He is presumed dead.
• The Ziggurat’s only entrance, at its summit, has been sealed off by unknown forces; the heavy stone doors closed and warded. The same goes for the Golden Tower in the Templar district, former home of Kalak.
• High Templar of the King’s Works, Tithian, has assumed power as the new King of Tyr. The Templars maintain their previous roles as city officials and police, but now report to Tithian. Corruption runs more rampant than ever.
• Tithian, under pressure from the leaders of various rebel groups, declares Tyr a city free of slavery.
• Tithian is in the process of forming a city council with representatives from various trade groups, former templars, and merchant houses based in Tyr.
• The Coliseum is transformed into a Free Market where anyone is allowed to set up and trade their wares on the arena floor.
• The Tyr slave pits are transformed into a new fighting pit, where free gladiators can train and profit from weekly fights held their ordained by the new city government. [

NPCs

• Lissan is the current arena darling and works furiously to promote the new Free Games of Tyr.
• Valmok, your former gladiatorial trainer, has decided to return to gladiator fighting himself.
• Hamash the Mul has disavowed his former master and moved his fruit stand to the coliseum grounds, where his business has grown. Rumor is fruit’s not all he’s selling.
• Chch’kraran still seeks iron weapons for his pack in an effort to redeem himself. He’s joined a posse of tradesmen headed by the Templars and was sent to break up the strike at the iron mine.
• Urrgos has found labor as a porter for House Wavir, but feeling like he owes his life to The Desert Bard and His Friends, he shows up whenever Ja’Amun performs to beat on a new drum he recently purchased in accompaniment.
• Mahlanda was apparently sent on some unknown mission out of the city by the Veilled Alliance, or so you were told.
• Granj is organizing a trade guild of Bricklayers & Construction and trying to mobilize those slaves who had been working on the Ziggurat for so long they’ve forgotten any other trade. Rumor is that he’s also been training them as an army.
• Etheros and Fanda Lisa are still proprietors of The Honeyed Kank, where your party are always free to come and go and discuss business.

A few more rumors

• Veilled Alliance sources claim an insurgent group denying Kalak’s death and vying for his return to substance and power known as The True have been meeting in secret.
• House Ianto, a merchant house known for slave trade, is rumored to be holding secret slave auctions in the warrens.
• Prospectors claim to have uncovered an ancient well on the outskirts of Tyr which connects to an unknown and vast aquifer. Merchant Houses are feuding over rights to its water, and trying to organize expeditions to sieze hold of the ancient cistern.
• Production at Tyr’s iron mines has slowed to a halt as workers go on strike over work conditions.
• Sorcerer-King Hamanu of Urik has his eyes turned on Tyr. Urikite spies have been captured within city walls.
• Certain players in the Veilled Alliance are arguing that now is the time for arcanist disclosure in Tyr, in the wake of the slave rebellion. At the very least, they hope to place a member on the city council in secret.
• Some monstrous entities from deep in the depths of Under Tyr have begun digging their way out into the warrens, perhaps disturbed by Ziggurat construction and whatever evil magic may still be working within.

Character Goals

At this point please outline at least 3 goals for your character. One which is short term, one which is longer term, and one which specifically relates to the goals of the party or one of your other party members. They can all be small and easily achievable. These goals must be explicitly stated and are subject to DM approval — but when reached, will earn you a Minor Quest XP reward.

It has been so long since I have had to write anything down. I should have started this when I left my homeland, instead of here in this city of tears. I will write what I remember, as best that I can, in case this is all that ever returns to my home.

You all know of the trip to Balic so I will spare you the trials I faced reaching there; the months spent wandering north across the endless dunes to the edge of the Sea of Silt. I crossed it through the tunnels at the Smuggler’s Rest, onto Balic. There I served years in Legionary service, learning the discipline of war from the humans & giants there. They looked down on me constantly, their egos too weak to see past my pointed ears & tall thin frame.

But I won the trust of my direct superiors & those serving with me through control of situations & by acting in the best interest of the group. Eventually I was voted to the rank of Praetor. I noticed a shift then, in the way I was treated. Hushed tones were used more frequently. I felt less comfortable then but it felt right to be able to serve as an honest arbiter during disputes.

Eventually Kalak’s minions came to Balic & demanded tribute to their slave horde. I volunteered to spare my friends in the service. I knew I could stand the trip & the hardship one would face better than they would. I should have realized the integrity of the Balic system of government was not universal to the rest of the sands of Athas.

The trip from Balic to Tyr was nothing but long, hot & arduous. We were given so little water, & no chance to — evenly briefly — escape the throng. I hid my ice, barely making any per day, & then only allowing it to melt inside my water skin or under my tongue.

I spent most of my time herding the weaker slaves. One of the Templars took notice of my help, & despite my diminutive status as a Praetor, he offered me service under him. Cautiously I accepted.

He returned the basic items of our house, my cloak of office & clothing & presented me with a Master’s Whip to punish the slaves. I used it sparingly but with great effect, relying on the stronger slaves to help keep the weaker ones in line & punishing those to cruel for the responsibility. It’s fine craftsmanship allowed for powerful displays that ended if dramatic but not destructive pain. I hope.

I begged him, my Templar, to retrieve the confiscated badges of our house from the treasure to be presented to Kalak. Eventually he saw their importance to me & offered to indenture me further to him once we reached Tyr if he were able to secure their safety. I accepted. I hope it was the right choice but I could not bear their falling into the possession of that Tyrant-lord.

We travelled north. & north. Through Glamis & Ledo. Then to Thamo. To Altaruk, then Skonz. Then to Tyr. & into the city of tears.

AZURE; IN THE PITS. AZUR; HAND-SIZED. AZUR; I FIND YOU. AZUR; BLUE & GREEN. FIRE ROPE; SISTER-ELF FALLS. DWARVES; & GRUEL. MURDER; A BLADE. THE ARROWS; FAILURE. ESCAPE?; TALKING. OLD MAN; TALKING. TALKING; TALKING. TALKING; TALKING.

WE FIND YOU; A STAVE. ESCAPE; THE BARD & THE TRI-KEEN. CITY’S STREETS; AZUR — YOU SEE THE WAY. GLADIATOR’S HOME; TWO DWARVES. INSIDE; OBSIDIAN, BONE.

SEER; DRAGON. ZIGGURAT; ATTACK. PURPOSE: CONTROL.

IN THE CITY; OF TEARS. TRAPPED; IN THE PITS. WITHOUT OURSELVES; IN THE PITS. DAILY; TRIAL — PAIN.