captnamazing
09-15-2015, 02:13 PM
NOTE: The long travels in between Qeynos Hills and Ak'Anon has eaten through my stipend and more. I formally request the Rivervale Treasury to reimburse me for the following charges, which I paid for personally.
Boat Fare - 500 gold
New Journeyman's Boots - 5,000 gold
Witch-Hazel Wipes - 50 gold
Bribes to Whores (receipts cannot be produced) - 1,000 gold
Food & Drink - 3,000 gold
WARNING: This Report contains sensitive information regarding two devotees of Bertoxxulous. Cultists waylaid me on my journey back to Rivervale. They all rot in the ground, but before I could kill the human leader, he cursed this report with a Mark of the Plague. When I touched the Report again, the Mark burned itself onto the back of my neck. It is my belief that any who touch this scroll will forever be marked and hunted by Plague Cultists. You have been warned.
REPORT: The Plague Bringers
Pyzjin & Varsoon-
It began before the discovery of Kunark, in the zoo of Ak'Anon. Pyzjin was a caretaker for the animals. She had some skill in the mending of wounds, but her innate understanding of disease was why she had been hired. Under her watch, the zoo blossomed and attracted tourists from all over Norrath.
Varsoon came to Steamfont Mountains having heard legend of the Minotaur Hero and his mighty bracers. He was a promising young warrior from Qeynos. Across his breast laid a necklace of gnoll fangs, and he wore the Bone Armplates from Chief Goonda, whom it is said Varsoon slew in single combat.
Weary from his travels, Varsoon stopped in Ak'Anon. Crouching through the narrow passageways he found himself in a wonderful zoo, filled with bears and hounds and all manner of creatures that reminded him of home. There, he saw Pyzjin, and Pyzjin saw him.
I gleaned little more information about their meeting from the gnomish whore whom I solicited. What I do know is that they quickly fell in love and moved into a cottage in the Steamfont Mountains to explore each other's bodies in the confines of love. Varsoon happily forgot his quest to hunt the Minotaur, and Pyzjin quit her job under the auspice that she needed to take care of the animals in the wild.
For months, maybe even years, they lived in bliss. Pyzjin's friends who visited them in their love-nest report that Pyzjin and Varsoon's relationship was the most disgusting thing they had ever seen, but they were clearly in love. Varsoon spoke longingly of Qeynos, of the holy Paladins of Rodcet Nife; the couple kissed and rubbed each other's bodies in ways that made their guests feel awkward and leave. But, it became known that the pair planned to take a trip to Varsoon's homeland so they could be wed under the rose-petaled walls of Qeynos.
Then, the Plague came. It swept across the Steamfont Mountains, even reaching its fingers into the depths of Ak'Anon. The animals of the zoo were tortured by malaise. Pyzjin left the cottage and returned to the city to help keep the animals safe. She warned Varsoon not to leave the cottage, for she had warded it from disease.
But Varsoon was brave and full of health. Days after Pyzjin departed, Varsoon remembered his quest. He speculated that the Minotaur may be weakened by the Plague, giving him an advantage in combat. He equipped his armors and honed his Fine Steel Longsword, then ventured into the mountains.
Varsoon traveled through the darkened valleys. All around, the black scent of death clung to the air. But he kept his mouth covered with a mask and took care to avoid the biting rats. He came to the Minotaur caves and entered. Within those dank halls, Varsoon met his foe. The man's sword shone bright, a flame in the shadows. The Minotaur turned and charged, bellowing wrathfully.
The warriors went toe to toe. Varsoon's nimble strikes wearied the Minotaur Hero, but the human was not the tactician he once was. The Minotaur led Varsoon to a cunning trap, and Varsoon stumbled over an unseen ledge; he felt the piercing fire as the Minotaur's horn impaled his gut, and Varsoon fell into darkness.
Varsoon awoke. The Minotaur had left him for dead, and though Varsoon's lifeblood pooled about him and the angry burning of death ripped through his intenstines, the warrior did perish. He clawed his way out from the caves and back to the cottage.
Pyzjin returned from her mission to Ak'Anon. The second she saw the bloody handprint on the cottage door, she knew that death had come. Rushing inside, she found her lover supine. Around his belly-wound crawled the black lines of the Plague. Pyzjin cried out and fell to the ground, taking Varsoon's head in between her knees.
Then, Varsoon awoke. He looked into the startled eyes of his love and said, "I do not want to die."
Together, they wept. Pyzjin turned to the Gods and begged for aid. "I will do anything," she promised, "to spare my love from Death!"
The cottage door creaked open. A hunched figure whose face was hidden under a shadowed cowl entered the room. "I can show you how to save your love from the Plague, but you must agree to do a task for me afterwards."
Pyzjin agreed. As the sun and moon whirled around Norrath, the hooded wanderer taught Pyzjin much about controlling the spread of disease. Though Varsoon weakened, the spread of the plague slowed. In his wakening moments, the lovers spoke of making their trip to Qeynos, and there was hope.
One night, the hooded wanderer took Pyzjin to the side. "You have learned much from me, gnome. You hold great promise. There is a final ritual that will disturb you, but I assure you that it is the only way you and Varsoon will make it to the lands of Antonica together."
Pyzjin paled, but hearkened to what the hooded one said.
"Tomorrow night, under the darkness of the New Moon, I will guide you in a final ritual. Upon completion, your Varsoon will be immune to death from the Plague."
"What is the ritual?" Pyzjin asked.
The hooded one said nothing.
The next night came. Around Varsoon they lit eight black candles. They rubbed his body with a sacred oil. Then, Pyzjin wrapped a velvet choker, given to her by her grandmother, around her lover's neck. She turned to the hooded wanderer. "What now?" she asked.
The hooded one drew Varsoon's steel sword. "You must cut out his heart with this blade," he said.
Trembling, Pyzjin followed the command of her teacher, for had he not kept her love alive? Clumsily wielding the long sword, she pierced through Varsoon's chest and sliced out his heart. No blood spilled, and his face was untroubled by pain.
"Give the heart to me," the hooded one eagerly said. He took the dry heart from Pyzjin's hands and covered it in his own. Words of Power flowed from his lips. One by one, the eight candles flickered and died, until darkness blanketed the cottage.
Then, the spell ended. The hooded one uncovered Varsoon's heart - from his hands came an eerie red glow. He returned it to Pyzjin. The heart had twisted and hardened, deforming into a black stone that glowed a deep red.
In her hands, the stone shone more brightly. Varsoon groaned and sat up. Pyzjin looked upon him in awe.
The hooded one spoke. "Wield this stone and your Varsoon will forever by Undying. Never will he leave your side. You will be able to journey with him to Qeynos, as you both wished."
Pyzjin wept. She fell to her knees and embraced her lover. Then, she felt the clammy hand of the hooded one on her shoulder.
"Now, you must fulfill my task. Go to the Qeynos Hills with your love. Be merry. But this is the price of my aid. Until your last breath, you and Varsoon must slay any follower of Rodcet Nife who passes through those hills. The Hidden Arts which I have taught you will aid you in this mission, and Varsoon will delight in combat, as he did in his former life. I command you to do this, and you are bound to my will. If you do not follow this command, the power of the stone will fail, and your Varsoon will turn to dust."
A shadow in the night, the hooded one vanished from the lover's cottage.
Pyzjin gingerly held the stone. She kissed Varsoon's face and whispered to him. Though he rose, his movements were stiff and he did not speak. Pyzjin wept, begging her love to say something to her. She pleaded with him until the sun rose, but Varsoon never once responded to her.
In the rosy light of dawn, Pyzjin beheld her lover, saw the mockery of his beauty. His once brawny muscles were withered and stale. His eyes had sunk deep into the sockets and the hole in his chest oozed a dark ichor. Pyzjin tore at her hair and cursed the world. She donned a dark cloak and bent her will on the Glowing Black Stone - and Varsoon followed her into the West.
Boat Fare - 500 gold
New Journeyman's Boots - 5,000 gold
Witch-Hazel Wipes - 50 gold
Bribes to Whores (receipts cannot be produced) - 1,000 gold
Food & Drink - 3,000 gold
WARNING: This Report contains sensitive information regarding two devotees of Bertoxxulous. Cultists waylaid me on my journey back to Rivervale. They all rot in the ground, but before I could kill the human leader, he cursed this report with a Mark of the Plague. When I touched the Report again, the Mark burned itself onto the back of my neck. It is my belief that any who touch this scroll will forever be marked and hunted by Plague Cultists. You have been warned.
REPORT: The Plague Bringers
Pyzjin & Varsoon-
It began before the discovery of Kunark, in the zoo of Ak'Anon. Pyzjin was a caretaker for the animals. She had some skill in the mending of wounds, but her innate understanding of disease was why she had been hired. Under her watch, the zoo blossomed and attracted tourists from all over Norrath.
Varsoon came to Steamfont Mountains having heard legend of the Minotaur Hero and his mighty bracers. He was a promising young warrior from Qeynos. Across his breast laid a necklace of gnoll fangs, and he wore the Bone Armplates from Chief Goonda, whom it is said Varsoon slew in single combat.
Weary from his travels, Varsoon stopped in Ak'Anon. Crouching through the narrow passageways he found himself in a wonderful zoo, filled with bears and hounds and all manner of creatures that reminded him of home. There, he saw Pyzjin, and Pyzjin saw him.
I gleaned little more information about their meeting from the gnomish whore whom I solicited. What I do know is that they quickly fell in love and moved into a cottage in the Steamfont Mountains to explore each other's bodies in the confines of love. Varsoon happily forgot his quest to hunt the Minotaur, and Pyzjin quit her job under the auspice that she needed to take care of the animals in the wild.
For months, maybe even years, they lived in bliss. Pyzjin's friends who visited them in their love-nest report that Pyzjin and Varsoon's relationship was the most disgusting thing they had ever seen, but they were clearly in love. Varsoon spoke longingly of Qeynos, of the holy Paladins of Rodcet Nife; the couple kissed and rubbed each other's bodies in ways that made their guests feel awkward and leave. But, it became known that the pair planned to take a trip to Varsoon's homeland so they could be wed under the rose-petaled walls of Qeynos.
Then, the Plague came. It swept across the Steamfont Mountains, even reaching its fingers into the depths of Ak'Anon. The animals of the zoo were tortured by malaise. Pyzjin left the cottage and returned to the city to help keep the animals safe. She warned Varsoon not to leave the cottage, for she had warded it from disease.
But Varsoon was brave and full of health. Days after Pyzjin departed, Varsoon remembered his quest. He speculated that the Minotaur may be weakened by the Plague, giving him an advantage in combat. He equipped his armors and honed his Fine Steel Longsword, then ventured into the mountains.
Varsoon traveled through the darkened valleys. All around, the black scent of death clung to the air. But he kept his mouth covered with a mask and took care to avoid the biting rats. He came to the Minotaur caves and entered. Within those dank halls, Varsoon met his foe. The man's sword shone bright, a flame in the shadows. The Minotaur turned and charged, bellowing wrathfully.
The warriors went toe to toe. Varsoon's nimble strikes wearied the Minotaur Hero, but the human was not the tactician he once was. The Minotaur led Varsoon to a cunning trap, and Varsoon stumbled over an unseen ledge; he felt the piercing fire as the Minotaur's horn impaled his gut, and Varsoon fell into darkness.
Varsoon awoke. The Minotaur had left him for dead, and though Varsoon's lifeblood pooled about him and the angry burning of death ripped through his intenstines, the warrior did perish. He clawed his way out from the caves and back to the cottage.
Pyzjin returned from her mission to Ak'Anon. The second she saw the bloody handprint on the cottage door, she knew that death had come. Rushing inside, she found her lover supine. Around his belly-wound crawled the black lines of the Plague. Pyzjin cried out and fell to the ground, taking Varsoon's head in between her knees.
Then, Varsoon awoke. He looked into the startled eyes of his love and said, "I do not want to die."
Together, they wept. Pyzjin turned to the Gods and begged for aid. "I will do anything," she promised, "to spare my love from Death!"
The cottage door creaked open. A hunched figure whose face was hidden under a shadowed cowl entered the room. "I can show you how to save your love from the Plague, but you must agree to do a task for me afterwards."
Pyzjin agreed. As the sun and moon whirled around Norrath, the hooded wanderer taught Pyzjin much about controlling the spread of disease. Though Varsoon weakened, the spread of the plague slowed. In his wakening moments, the lovers spoke of making their trip to Qeynos, and there was hope.
One night, the hooded wanderer took Pyzjin to the side. "You have learned much from me, gnome. You hold great promise. There is a final ritual that will disturb you, but I assure you that it is the only way you and Varsoon will make it to the lands of Antonica together."
Pyzjin paled, but hearkened to what the hooded one said.
"Tomorrow night, under the darkness of the New Moon, I will guide you in a final ritual. Upon completion, your Varsoon will be immune to death from the Plague."
"What is the ritual?" Pyzjin asked.
The hooded one said nothing.
The next night came. Around Varsoon they lit eight black candles. They rubbed his body with a sacred oil. Then, Pyzjin wrapped a velvet choker, given to her by her grandmother, around her lover's neck. She turned to the hooded wanderer. "What now?" she asked.
The hooded one drew Varsoon's steel sword. "You must cut out his heart with this blade," he said.
Trembling, Pyzjin followed the command of her teacher, for had he not kept her love alive? Clumsily wielding the long sword, she pierced through Varsoon's chest and sliced out his heart. No blood spilled, and his face was untroubled by pain.
"Give the heart to me," the hooded one eagerly said. He took the dry heart from Pyzjin's hands and covered it in his own. Words of Power flowed from his lips. One by one, the eight candles flickered and died, until darkness blanketed the cottage.
Then, the spell ended. The hooded one uncovered Varsoon's heart - from his hands came an eerie red glow. He returned it to Pyzjin. The heart had twisted and hardened, deforming into a black stone that glowed a deep red.
In her hands, the stone shone more brightly. Varsoon groaned and sat up. Pyzjin looked upon him in awe.
The hooded one spoke. "Wield this stone and your Varsoon will forever by Undying. Never will he leave your side. You will be able to journey with him to Qeynos, as you both wished."
Pyzjin wept. She fell to her knees and embraced her lover. Then, she felt the clammy hand of the hooded one on her shoulder.
"Now, you must fulfill my task. Go to the Qeynos Hills with your love. Be merry. But this is the price of my aid. Until your last breath, you and Varsoon must slay any follower of Rodcet Nife who passes through those hills. The Hidden Arts which I have taught you will aid you in this mission, and Varsoon will delight in combat, as he did in his former life. I command you to do this, and you are bound to my will. If you do not follow this command, the power of the stone will fail, and your Varsoon will turn to dust."
A shadow in the night, the hooded one vanished from the lover's cottage.
Pyzjin gingerly held the stone. She kissed Varsoon's face and whispered to him. Though he rose, his movements were stiff and he did not speak. Pyzjin wept, begging her love to say something to her. She pleaded with him until the sun rose, but Varsoon never once responded to her.
In the rosy light of dawn, Pyzjin beheld her lover, saw the mockery of his beauty. His once brawny muscles were withered and stale. His eyes had sunk deep into the sockets and the hole in his chest oozed a dark ichor. Pyzjin tore at her hair and cursed the world. She donned a dark cloak and bent her will on the Glowing Black Stone - and Varsoon followed her into the West.