Thursday, June 16, 2011


Nazost the Scrivener is overjoyed...which is not his natural state, being a rather sour and bent old man. The items that he takes the most interest in are the urn, the suit of armor and the crossbow, as well as the copied sigils from around the base of the statue. He pays full price for the armor and crossbow (unless of course one of the characters would like to hold onto either one of course...).

He invites you into his rather small room in the Tower of the Watch on the far western side of the castle. A spartan cot with tattered and threadbare blankets occupies one corner while the rest of the room is cluttered with objects both arcane in nature as well as martial. Stones with runes lie stacked in a corner next to a small brass brazier banked with glowing coals.

What appears to be a small writing desk is covered in papers, scrolls and books. It is here that Nazost turns to when studying the sigils that you have supplied him. Rifling through papers, things scattering to the floor as if in a minor gale, he finally finds what he seems to be looking for; A black bound book. Small in size and apparently quite old, it is written in a spidery hand, the letters seeming to move when not looked at straight on...

"Ho! It is as I thought...See this here?" he indicates by pointing to series of sigils, "Seems that our friends the dwarves made some bargains with a dark power indeed! Their need must have been great. Or maybe it was their greed? I know not." He shakes his head and looks up at you, hair in a disarray, "Malraugin." he whispers. "Do not say this too loudly, for it might attract attention of the sort that you will not appreciate. I'm quite sure."

He was a powerful demon of the darkest sort. According to Keleb Tharna, the author of this book, he was a noble, but in disfavor at the time, and willing to make deals of any sort to curry it back. And this is why he was found here, on our mortal realm. The dwarves were in a powerful need I imagine and somehow found his true name. The rest is a mystery."

He moves over to his bed and sits down, looking at the crossbow lying in his lap. "Somewhere along the line they not only made a bargain, but started worshiping this chaotic power. Most unusual for dwarves you know. They're a rather stoic race that is loathe to break from tradition. Like I said, their need must have been great."

"This here," he says, pointing at the paper you've given him "is a prayer of sorts. It speaks of his power over their enemies and the blood that they owe him. I'd guess sacrifices of some sort naturally. But beyond that, I'm no demonologist. And I can't even guess."

Eyes scanning the armor in the corner, he mumbles something about a prince, and then says "You know though, there is a demonologist in Botkinburg, not three days journey from here. He might be able to aid you where I can not. IF it's of any more interest that is. Maybe, when you are done, you might make a journey for me? I would pay of course. This is of great interest to me. I'm so close, yet this entity is quite obviously central to the dwarves demise. And I must know more. Ah, but I must be patient...I've been so for quite a long time now. A little longer will not hurt me. No?"

With that he gets up from the bed accompanied by the popping of joints and a sigh.."Ah, these old bones. I can't thank you enough you know. Oh! and do you have maps of the dwarven ruins? I'll pay for those too if you have any."

Thanking you again, he seems finished. All the energy having drained from him like sand from a sieve. "I will see you again. You are heroes you know. All the castle is talking about it. The prisoners that you have freed are quite the topic. Returning is quite a feat in and of itself, but what you've done so far is commendable."

Shuffling to the door he opens it and shows you out, "Come again, please. I'll have more energy once I get my rest. Thank you." And with that, he closes the portal with a sigh.

Cut Scene: Tevalon rolls over in his sleep...For some reason it has been slippery this evening, like trying to capture a silverfish with bare hands. He sits up slowly as a sound teases him. Just on the edge of his perception, it's the rapid fluttering of wings...lots of them.