Legend of the Rune Bearers

The Catacombs

This adventure log is written in the perspective of Mortignar Vox’Potestas. If anyone else wishes to create an adventure log for this session feel free, as I may miss out on some pertinent details.

I have found some back pages on my spellbook given to me by Asmodeus that are empty. I’ve decided to use these to record down my achievements and progress of my life. I remember the villagers of Unduin would use empty books as well to write down there days. They called them journal’s, I guess this shall suffice.

Entry 1,
As I stood before my village, watching the last few flames from my magic burn it to a smoldering ruin, a dove with a message within its talons came to me. To my surprise the message was titled to me, Mortignar Vox’Potestas. After my initial shock (given that I only recently named myself that, after being tired of being known as “child”) I read its contents.

The message directed me to an old cottage like hut, offering me a thousand gold pieces if I complete the quest offered there. How could I refuse? The chance to fight in battle to increase my prowess and being offered money for it?

At the cottage I found three other adventurer’s waiting there. They also recieved similar messages that I had. I was in a a slight state of shock that they did not remark on my teifling features. But only one of them were human so I guess that makes sense. I’m only normal among other non humans it would seem. The old man who lived there wanted us to enter these catacombs that had some kind of magical orb that he desired. But goblins lead by a knoll had broken in. Entering the catacombs we were confronted with two enchanted statues that gaurded two separate paths. One was far more dangerous then the other, and we were given a riddle to solve to descover which is the safe route.

After solving the riddle we moved on, into a facinating room full of books depicting the life stories with vast detail of myself and my three companions. I quickly took the book not wanting the others to know the details of my powers, or my past crimes. They have more uses to me then becoming obsticales in my path.

The others also took their books and we moved on, unnerved by these turn of events. We then came across a statue blocking our path. After triggering it into a defensive fight, me and the assassin (which I have been taking a liking to. He is skilled in death, and could be a very valuable person to befriend. Or at least befriend untill i have no use of his skills) took out most of the assailents. The bard didn’t do much in the way of fighting, but was a skilled healer. The Minitour had some bad luck, fighting creatures with strong armor. But I’m certain it will also have uses later in combat with foes that have more… fleshy parts.

Onwards we traveled in the catcombs untill we litterally fell into a room. It had arcane symbols inlaid into the ground. They were written in Supernal the bard figured, and that is the language of the gods.

I stepped on the rune of chaos, and the symbol seared into my flesh. Though I quite like it, the chaos I will wrought on my road to fate shall be great indeed. Our assassin however did something that I quite liked. He triggered a trap, unleashing undead hounds from the catacombs. The battle was simple and we stood victorius with little to no effort.

I seeing that there was still 4 un-opened catacombs decided to trigger the trap again wanting some more things to kill. Well… unfortunatly all I succeeded in doing was electrocuting us. After being wounded our assassin opened up one of the sarcoughagis. In attempt to rob the dead (looks like my greed for power is matched by our assassins greed for… well greed.) the dead awoke.

The battle that insued…. was nothing that I have ever seen. It was beutifull, more then beutifull. My life was stretched to its very limits, my blood flowed forth from my body, boiling and burning from my spells and spilling into the room. I have never felt such excitement, rage, and battle.

I passed out. After the battle was over, we set up camp, I tended to my wounds, and I write down into this journal.

Comments

Ristaak

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