Korvias Pipeleaf’s Journal

It has been a long time since I have written anything. We have become involved in some evil beings’ plans. I don’t recall when last I wrote anything, but since then we’ve traveled far and wide, down south to the Greenfields and back north to the wonderous city of Waterdeep. I have met many kobolds, but none from a tribe that recognizes my color.

Honestly, I am disappointed with my race. Instead of honorable or mighty descendents of dragons, I found sniveling servants waiting to be ordered about by almost anyone. Most of the kobolds I’ve met have chromatic scales, with black, green, red, and some blue being prominent. Because of this, I think I need to learn more about the metallic dragons. Research and book learning are not easy for me. I don’t have the patience for it.

But I did manage to find a book on good dragons in Balders Gate, and learned something of them – they seem to be most impressive. I think I’d not be even writing this if I’d not almost died going after some gems in a pool of water, but I manage to live through it with the help of my companions. And it has me wonder, if I’d died, who would really worry about it? What mark would I have made?

After my close call, I sent out a heartfelt prayer to Bahamut, the god of good dragons, seeking some enlightenment. Tiamat seems to have followers and cultists aplenty, where are his allies?

I think he answered me, if it was not all just a fever dream. A dragon so large it seems impossible, and golden like my scales, appeared in my dream, and said she’d been assigned to keep an eye on me. That Bahamut had deemed me to young to take into his service, but thought I might yet grow into something. So I have something to look forward to. If I manage to keep myself to the ideals the gold dragons value, perhaps they’ll see fit to take me into their service, or at least give me some advice from time to time.

Drakir’s Diary, 7.20.21

We made it to a town, filled with actual, living people.  The burgomaster from the note is dead, but we meet his son and adopted daughter, and agree to escort her out of the town of Barovia to a town more distant called Velaki.   After a few days rest, we set out.

Travel is Barovia is not safe, and we are attacked by undead, wolves, and other creatures.  The first night, we take refuge with the wandering people, and have a reading from their soothsayer.  The omens are mixed for all of us. 

We leave the camp in the morning, and travel another day, coming to an evil looking place, where we debate staying the night but decide we’d be better off travelling and camping in the open.  The night brings an attack by bats and wolves, which we fight off, and we head out before dawn, determined to reach Velaki before the next night.

I’ve not had time to record anything new as we have been travelling for some days.  However, something is nagging at me, something which has been slowly growing, and is now taking shape, and I felt I must record something about it.

The longer I am in this place, this place of darkness, mist and shadow, the stronger it seems I get. 

We arrived, and I was merely feeling an affinity to this place.  My vision, always better in darkness than my fully human relatives, not much changed.  In the last few days, however, it has gotten …  better.  I see further and deeper into darkness than I ever have before.  I seem to have an affinity with the dark now.  I can now summon some to help me, to cloak me and shield me from unfriendly eyes.  And I’ve found I can infuse my runeblade with the dark energy I’ve been granted, which will cause it to spread to those around my opponent.  I worry what this might mean to my brother, a devotee of the god of light, or to the followers of Sune, the goddess of beauty.

Drakhir’s Diary, 6.8.21

This place is evil and twisted.   We search this, for lack of a better phrase, haunted house for the child.  We find a ghostly nanny.  I speak with her and she runs away to go find the missing infant.  We find the body of the nanny in a trunk, and then the corpses of the children in a locked room, locked in an embrace in death.  The child’s dollhouse is a replica of this house, and shows all the hidden passages.  When I touch it, the ghosts of the children we met outside appear, and ask us to not touch their toys. This tells us the children outside were not real, but were likely bait.

Then the boy attempts to possess me.  I retain control, however, he is inside me, and the terror he feels threatens to overwhelm me.  As long as he was with me, his powerful emotions threatened to cause outbursts of fear and childish tantrums.  I manage to keep it under control, however, and we go do what we must. 

In what appears to be the master bedroom, we find a condescending letter to the owner from the overlord of the area – one Stradh.  The master of the house sounds like a jerk, cheating on his wife with the nanny and fathering a bastard on her.  The overlord doesn’t sound any better, though. 

We search the rest of the house, and then take a secret stairway to the basement.  We find all manner of unholy things down there, an altar to the noble overlord, rooms dedicated to torture and death. 

In what appears to be a second bedroom, we find the former master of the house, dangling from a noose.  His wife, now undead, bursts out and attacks us.  The party makes quick work of her, as I stand paralyzed in the terror coming from the child at the sight of what used to be his mother. We find a suicide letter to his children, apologizing for everything. We also found a letter from the lady of the house, saying she was going to sacrifice an innocent. Whether this was the nanny or the bastard child of her husband, we do not know.

We then find the crypts prepared for the family, and those of the children.  We put their bodies in their crypts, and our cleric says a prayer, and the spirit of the boy thanks me, and leaves to be at peace, thankfully for us both.

We find another stairway down, and a very unholy room filled with evil relics.  There is also a dungeon, mostly unoccupied (one skeleton is still shackled).  We also find a water filled room with an altar.  When we investigate it, a portcullis slams down, trapping most of us inside and Revlok on the outside (he had gone harrying off for some reason).  A golem-like creature animates as voices chant and tell us one of us must be sacrificed.  We refuse and start fighting the creature as it hits us with waves of terror and strikes at Cardiel and I with his misshapen limbs.  As Cardiel and I hack and slash at the creature, we see an infant inside it, I manage to grab it and tear it out of the creature, which collapses. We take a few moments to determine what our next steps should be, and if the house will let us leave.

Khaavrens Diary, 6.3.21

Our mission has been a success!

Lulu was right.  We were able to redeem Zariel, and she and the other imprisoned angel have restored Elturel to its place on the prime material plane.    Nienor is back with her true master, and I feel a empty for the lack of her presence.  Although, I must say, I do feel … more like I used to be. Less judgemental, less decisive and certain of my actions.

I’ve also learned that apparently Zariel was the one who imprisoned Mooncolour, so she is still a little sore about that.

We encountered Zariel over the remains of Elturel, and with Lulu’s assistance, I was able to persuade her to come back to the light. She brought Elturel back from hell, and we were heralded as heroes. Apparently I am physically changed as well as matured in person, as my wings are still there, although my eyes have gone back to their pre-sword blue. This will make it harder to blend in and avoid the drow assassination squads, which are undoubtedly still after me.

After a bit, we are back in Baldur’s Gate again.  Our reward was a thousand platinum and the Vanthampor manor house.   We start the process of removing all the infernal items and getting new furniture, although we also hired some guards and servants.  I get the guards outfitted and we start getting everyone situated.  We leave for Candlekeep in two weeks to see if we can get transported to Cania.

Apparently, the same demon knows something about restoring Kavyre’s memory as well as a contract Daerian has.  We have a plan in the making, and preparations to make.

Korvias Pipeleaf’s journal 5.30.21

Well, we managed to find the dwarf and rescue him, and clear Waveecho Cavern.

Now we’re on our way south to the town of Greenest. 

We arrived, only to find the town on fire and being attacked by kobolds.  Kobolds?   They refuse to speak with me, and even attack me on sight.  I’m at a loss, and somewhat stunned, but managed to react in combat despite my shock and reluctance.  This is the first time I’ve ever seen other kobolds, and I’m trying to remember what my parents told me of them and trying to determine what they chose not to say.

Unlike halflings, they would say, different tribes of kobolds are inherently hostile to one another.  That must be why they are hostile to me, despite our shared heritage.  Also, they seem to all be different colors – and all of them are chromatic, not metallic.  I wonder if that is why they were aggressive to me. Is it because they’re descended of chromatic dragons who follow Tiamat and not metallic, like me, who tend to follow Bahmut? Does that hatred mean I’m going to be attacked by all chromatic kobolds?

Still, it disturbs me, all the more so when I find they’re allies with human dragon-worshipping cultists.  What is it with humans, can’t they worship their own ancestors and leave ours alone?

We destroy three groups of kobolds and make it to the keep while the blue dragon flies overhead.  I’m not sure he’ll attack the keep, but we’ll see.  The villagers and soldiers inside are immediately hostile to me, thinking I’m one of the other kobolds, but my party convinces them otherwise. 

This is going to require some thought and introspection. Perhaps I need to capture someone or talk with them in a peaceful environment? Will all chromatic kobolds attack me on sight? Will my own tribe even know I’m one of them or will the Darkhorn tribe attack me as an outsider? Will I ever be accepted by other kobolds? Although my parents raised me well, they didn’t teach me their language – a cultural thing, and I think, one of self protection. Instead they had a librarian teach me draconic, perhaps expecting I’d eventually go back to my own kind. But did they know I’d be greeted with hostility?

And… What about dragons? Are they just as bad?

Drakhir’s History

The birth of Drakhir & Cardiel, third and fourth sons to the Ducal house of Khahn was an unpleasant surprise.  The noble human family was shocked to find one of their twin children born with blue skin, white hair and horns, and the other had the same red eyes as the first, but was human in all other respects.  Unfortunately, there were noble witnesses to the birth, so they could not be swept under the rug and disinherited.  His mother Letha, who was immediately under serious pressure to explain how she had a blue-skinned tiefling was thankfully supported by the granduncle, who said the otherworldy blood ran in the family, although was very rare.

Drakhir’s childhood was not an easy one, being teased and discriminated against by most of his family and castle staff.  His granduncle Therion, however, seemed fond of the child, but he was an old man and, although feared, rarely listened to.  He did keep Drakhir safe and told him many stories of places far away and of magics rare and strange.  The old man also educated Drakhir on history and languages.  He was teased by his older brothers and his sisters for his abnormal appearance.

Cardiel’s childhood was better, as he was almost normal and clearly the more athletic of the two.  He excelled at the martial training the boys were put through and garnered the respect of the guards and staff.

When Drakhir was around six it became apparent that the supernatural patron of the family appeared to take an interest in him – the first such interest in two generations.  He experienced dreams of a grey and black plane of existence and a shadow which tried to be telling him something.   His granduncle listened to him, and quietly told him they were dreams of the Shadowfell or of the Raven Queens abode.  Therion also told him to speak to no one but his father Dracken or himself about it.  Their father, although disappointed that it was his blue skinned son, was pleased the patron had once again taken an interest in the family, for his uncle had provided them much guidance and support in his time.   He also advised him to learn as much he could for the day when he would go forth from the family’s home. 

The hours Drakhir spent in study, Cardiel spent with the sword. Always a spiritual child, Cardiel felt a surge of excitement when told tales of Tyr’s heroism in the Time of Troubles and Second Sundering. While not the most fervent, he dreamed of bearing Tyr’s standard on the battlefield, meting out justice upon those who would harm innocents.  It was because of this fascination with the light and justice that convinced Drakhir not to tell his twin of the Shadow and its influence in his life.

Soon after Drakhir and Cardiel turned sixteen, their granduncle died, and the boys were more alone than ever in the family, having only one another to talk with.  The family pressure grew on Drakhir and Cardiel – not only were they not needed as heirs, but their appearances and Tiefling heritage was a potential embarrassment to the family.  Both boys were encouraged to go out into the world and make their fortunes.  The family was relieved when they set out towards Waterdeep. 

When they reached Waterdeep, they started making connections among the nobles there.  Their peers don’t quite know what to make of them, their family credentials are impeccable, but Drakhir’s tiefling heritage is unnerving, and Cardiels eyes were a reminder of his brother even when they were not together.

Drakhir’s Diary, session 1

After two weeks in Waterdeep, Cardiel was invited to a party at the Temple of Sune, where he met a visiting priestess there who apparently made an impression, for he went to three more parties there in the following week.  Red hair is apparently sacred to Sune, so I understand a little of why Cardiel was invited back to the parties at the temple.  Apparently red eyes are not, but they can overlook that in him.  Then she apparently left without a note, and he appeared a bit crestfallen for days afterward. 

After a few days, however, she returned, this time with her sister in tow.  Cardiel then introduced us over lunch, and, to her credit, they are both astonishingly good company, and radient in a way that only aasimar can be.  Their mere presence demands the attention of every man in the room, and stand out like a candle in the night. 

Frankly, I am surprised at first that Cardiel would have the courage to speak with Sapphire at all, but a few minutes of conversation with them answered that question – she is very good at making people feel at ease, blessed with true social grace.  I do note, however, that he still gets a little tongue tied around them both.  I attempted a little light hearted flirting with the sister, but I am so rusty at this social skill that I doubt anyone noticed it.  She is so beautiful and socially skilled, not to mention preoccupied, that my efforts fail to garnish attention.  Which is likely a good thing.  I recall an odd phrase that Aasimir and Tieflings don’t often mix well.  With my own stygian heritage, I often come across as cold and unapproachable, or so my socially proficient siblings tell me.

The sisters are apparently searching for some missing friends, and trying to avoid attention from some group of criminals, I gather, although it’s not said out loud.  Cardiel (and by extension, myself) offer to escort them south east to Daggerford, where Sapphire says they should expect to find word, or at least to get guidance from her goddess.  I of all people understand this, as I receive cryptic messages from Shadow in my dreams quite often, however, the decyphering of its meaning is often beyond my comprehension, especially since Uncle died.  He had a gift – or at least decades of experience, in determining what was needed.

We leave Waterdeep, and head south. I’m not entirely unhappy with this as my purse was getting a bit light for the kind of social calendar we enjoyed there, or at least that Cardiel enjoyed there.  On the second evening out, the mists start gathering, and out of the mists come two figures.

Tall they are, and muscular, but their limbs seem clumsy, at least at first.  They are also blue, and dressed is mismatched commoner clothing.  And identical.  I confront them, and ask them their business, but they seem confused, and, if I may say so, daft at times.  They slightly remind me of some books I’ve read dealing with golems made of flesh, but their description is all wrong, so I’m really not sure what to make of them.  I offer them some food, unfortunately only the travel rations we have with us, and they eat, but seem very uninterested in it all.

Cardiel seems a bit protective, and when the strangers mention piles of bodies ten minutes walk away, we decide we must go investigate.  I extinguish the fire, and we set out.  Which turns out to be a big mistake.

The mist apparently is magical, and carries us away.  We walk about twenty to thirty minutes, and come across a road, with the mist filling in behind us.  It’s unnaturally cold and clammy, and I notice the others all seem to be affected by it.  We agree to follow our footsteps back, but not five minutes in, several of us stagger as if under a heavy weight, and we take the hint – we are not allowed to leave.

Oddly, far from being scary and intimidating, the shadows and mist seem oddly familiar.  Which is not to say that I doubt they will turn on me if they could, but for now, I appear to be the only one comfortable in the rain and mist of this odd plane.  Whether it’s because of my Stygian blood or the influence of Shadow, I know not.

We are herded by the mist down the road, where we come to a large wall with a gate and two giant statues.  We make camp under one of the statues, which provides some shelter from the rain, and bed down for the night.  Getting a campfire lit requires magic, but it keeps us warm.  In the morning, two of our watches reported hearing wolves howling in the distance. 

We enter the gates, and it ominiously swings closed behind us.  We keep moving, and come to a place where there is the body of a young man alongside the road.  He has a letter and a few coins on him, and I notice when we approach him that Vendetta is noticably upset, until it’s confirmed it’s not her friend, but a stranger.  The letter says:

“Hail thee of might and valor:

I, the Burgomaster of Barovia, send you honor—with despair.

My adopted daughter, the fair Ireena Kolyana, has been these past nights bitten by a vampyr. For over four hundred years, this creature has drained the life blood of my people. Now, my dear Ireena languishes and dies from an unholy wound caused by this vile beast. He has become too powerful to conquer.

So I say to you, give us up for dead and encircle this land with the symbols of good. Let holy men call upon their power that the devil may be contained within the walls of weeping Barovia. Leave our sorrows to our graves, and save the world from this evil fate of ours.

There is much wealth entrapped in this community. Return for your reward after we are all departed for a better life.

Kolyan Indirovich
Burgomaster”

My blood runs cold as I read the letter.  Memories from a lesson with my grand uncle Therion made mention of Barovia.  It is a plane off of the Shadowfell, where my guide  and mentor Shadow resides.  It holds a great evil, and is essentially a prison.  If we are there now, we are in grave danger.  Sometimes, if it useful to know a language nobody else does.  And Infernal is possibly the best language for swearing I’ve ever heard of.

I do not, however, let on to the others too much, other than to say that I suspect we are not in our plane any longer, and to be very cautious.  A few minutes after finding the body, we are set upon by wolves, and I am happy to say, we were victorious.  All of our little group appear to be proficient with violence and cool under pressure.

We continue along the road, and pass a cluster of buildings, barred and locked up as if they were under siege.  We then hear crying coming from ahead, and quicken our pace.  Two children, perhaps 7 and 10 years old, dressed in somber clothing, are crying outside of a large house.  They tell us there is a monster in their house, and that their baby brother is still inside. 

Cardiel looks them over, and then the house, and turns a little pale at the evil he senses there.  We all decide we are going in, and as we enter I put a charm against evil over my brash younger brother.  The first two floors are empty, with the exception of a music room with instruments which appear to play themselves.  As we make the third floor landing, a suit of armor animates and attacks.  We manage to take it down, but not before I take a strong hit to my side, most likely breaking some ribs, as my breathing is difficult and painful, but not too debilitating.

Diary of Vendetta – The mist

Sapphire and I found our way to Waterdeep after escaping our home of Westbridge. I don’t think we will ever be able to return. I regret having done that to my sister.

Once in Waterdeep we hear news of our friends, Romi and Elan, which have lead us to set our sites on Daggerford. That and the guild had was starting to sniff around. We couldn’t stay any longer. Sapphire requested the add of an acquaintance by the name of Cardiel and his brother Drakhir. I’m not sure what all she has told them of our predicament but they know we are in search of Romi and Elan.

A few days out from Waterdeep we meet two very strange twins. They know things, things they shouldn’t know, things that worry me. They speak of red silk and a pile of bodies, a strange mist, and of a song I would play in the guilds den. I am sure I have never seen them before. We request for them to take us to where they have seen these things.

‘The mist, the mist, it came all around’

As we walked a mist formed giving the sensation of becoming lost, but we needed… I needed to see this through. If Romi was died… no he can’t be dead.

‘shrouding the world till we could not be found’

When the mist finally cleared we were somewhere else. It was later than it should have been, and rain fell at a steady rate on a road that was different than the one we had come from. I had a feeling of dread, of wrongness, and I was not the only one. We attempted to follow our tracks back but the mist would not have it. So, we continued down this new path with only one way to go. As we did the mist followed.

‘when the mist cleared, we knew we were lost’

‘but the mist would not let us go without a cost’

We traveled down the road for a time until we came across a colossal closed gate guarded by headless figures of stone. As we approached the gate swung open. Try as we might we didn’t recognize the figures, but they made for a small reprieve from the rain so we could sleep.

‘along the path came a gate’

‘guarded by souls who could not see our fate’

‘their heads did lay, fallen on the ground’

‘as we approached their gates came unbound’

The gates closed behind us once we had walked through and the mist flooded against it. I don’t believe we would be going back that way. We continued down the path until the smell of death filled the air. My heart was in my throat, but it couldn’t be him. It had to be someone else.

‘the smell of rot, drifted around the bend’

‘would this be where his fate did end

It was not him, but another who had been attacked by animals. Likely wolves from the howls that were becoming more frequent. He held a letter speaking of a town call Barovia and of vampires. I had only heard of vampires in tales but I’d believe they would live in this place.

‘it was not him but the remains of another’

‘ragged and gnawed, for the wolves supper’

The wolves had not been sated by the dead man. They attacked us and while fighting them off we came to a disturbing realization. Our magic had changed in this place. My once beautiful music had become sorrowful and at time horrific.

Diary of Khaavren – We have found the sword

Well, it has been a while since my last entry. I feel like we’ve been in a marathon with little to no rest. When last I wrote, I had gained some additional direction and guidance by binding myself to the unicorn Mooncolor. She taught me that it is not weakness to help and nurture others, and that there is power in healing.

Well, we have made it through Avernus to the place where the temple which protected the sword was. We pierced the veil hiding it from most of the denizens of Avernus. We then made our way through the scab surrounding the temple, fighting demons along the way. When we reached the temple, I opened the doors, and we entered. There was the spirit of one of Zariel’s paladins guarding the place, and she took us into one of Lulu’s dreams to test our worthiness.

Inside the dream there was the town of Idylglen, and it was under attack by gnolls and demons. We fought them off, and while we were doing so, Korvold the kobold witnessed the death of the first of his name. Apparently the name is more of a title and not hereditary. He somehow used a soul coin to trade places with the paladin, and is now trapped in a coin, while the paladin Korvold inhabits his body.

We fight off the demons and fight Yeenagu the demon lord of gnolls, when Zariel and Lulu arrive and kick the demon lord through a portal, and slam it shut behind it. Zariel then asks us what we would do would we risk our very beings to assault Avernus to try and end these assaults or would we just keep defending. Knowing what I know about her assault on Avernus, I tell her no, and that if she lost herself, she would be an even bigger threat to the innocent than the demons were, and they would not have her to defend them any longer.

We are transported back to the temple, and Lulu has regained all her memories. The spirit and Lulu then ask who will take the sword, and caution that it will “be the end of who you are”. I feel a need to offer myself as I have no one depending on me back in the real world, and indeed expect to be assassinated within a few years anyway. And if by my sacrifice I can help save Elturel, and these comrades of mine, the closest thing I have to family, I cannot decline.

Shiven backs up, unwilling to risk his life. Kavyre debates, but also does so as she has her village to save. Korvald the paladin says he is obligated to restore the soul of Korvold the 6th, and declines. Darien does not even offer or think it over. Falco steps up but is rejected by the sword for whatever reason.

I take the sword, and gain a new purpose. All my life flashes before me, and it is like it has been leading up to this. First, born among the evil drow, where I recognized that I was different. Then taking small steps fighting for rights for male drow, then freedom for slaves, then fleeing to the upper world. Once there, fighting for survival, then to make a comfortable life in Balders Gate. Helping refugees from Elturel and expecting nothing in return. Being gifted the amulet by a good hearted gnome priestess who saw more in me than I saw in myself. Then meeting Lulu and being transported to Avernus and the reality of that sinking in. Freeing prisoners in Elturel and helping the hopeless here. Freeing Mooncolor just as I was ready to take the next step. Learning how to nurture and help and not just kill and steal.


And now. The sword. She has a life and personality which are her own, and while others just call her the Sword of Zariel, she tells me to call her Nienor, which is elvish for lamentation, as she still mourns the fall of Zariel into evil. She is understanding of my search for meaning, and gives me a new purpose. I feel fulfilled, and if I die, I am confident my spirit will no longer go to the Abyss to be a plaything of the servants of Lolth, but will go to either Amoria to be with Mooncolor or Lunia to serve the celestials there. I am content with either.

I do not expect to be her caretaker for long, something inside me feels that Zariel will seek to claim her once again, for good or ill.

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