The Ruins of Myvolia

The Ghosts of Namaran
In The Depths of Darkness

Bghosts of namaran

From the lip of the tunnel you look into the vast chamber beyond. In the flickering light of a dozen or more torches fifty battle-hardened Iron Wolves stand about the Black Alter in a tense silence. Not a voice can be heard but the desperate pleading and hideous screams of the monk who is suffering under the ministrations of Bishop Tarduk.

The black alter  1

Even from this distance you can see the flush of Tarduk’s face and the fevered look in his eyes. Sweat drips from his thin, oily hair and splashes off the blood-soaked dagger in his hand. A shudder of ecstasy ripples through him as he once more slices into the monk’s naked flesh, eliciting from him a fresh cry of agony.

Below the dark stone alter huddles a group of monks, transfixed by the horror that they are witnessing, unable to do more than mumble prayers and await their turn.

What’chya gonna do?

Black alter  2

Haven Bound

The eight of you gather at the crossroads. Jabilo and Sunbow discuss briefly the leads they have discovered, Lucius briefly fills in his experiences, feeling you must press harder to capture Septum before he gets to Haven you make the decision to move south.

You hit the road at a brisk pace hoping to steal as much sunlight as possible. The acrid smells of Tek leave as you get closer to the jungle pass before Haven. The grasslands get hillier and turn from golden to brown and then to a wet green as you approach the Simbon Mountains and Kinwah Jungle. Happily you get an extra hour more of light as you leave a great deal of the expansive flatland to the south-west.

After 4 and a half hours of hard riding…harder than you would normally feel comfortable…you cross the Sambo river and the last strands of day disappear behind the curtain of the long horizon.

Dismounting, your horses sleek in sweat, you forge in the dark for a good encampment. A sharp shriek pierces the night as Lagniappe dives down and rest upon the forearm of Sunbow. You can see the half moon reflect in her eyes as she releases a scrap of embroidered cloth into the shaman’s hand. Too dark to read the embroidery or discern the colour, she screeches again and takes off back into the night air.

In a quiet voice from the back of the group you hear Lund say

Well, you don’t see that every day.

To that you hear the deeper voice of Ranu beside him

We must respect the Jungle Eagle. I’m sure the Omen Master will know what it means.

Sunbow will ask Lucius how quickly a tent can be raised. “I would very much like to examine Lagniappe’s gift at once, as I feel it a vital clue, though bringing forth a light source out in the open like this….”
Lucius nods.

bq). We’ll make camp here, men. Sir Dayton, organize a watch for the night and distribute rations. There will be no fire tonight. Our quarry may be close by. We’ll strike out at first light.

Lucius turns to unsaddle his horse and unpack his tent.

With a great deal of difficulty, the five men set about erecting the encampment without a light source. After about an hour of muttering and stiffed swearing they get a tent set up, the horses picketed, a latrine dug, and a watch organized.

Lucius, Sunbow, and Jabilo step into the tent to examine the piece of cloth with the dim light of one of Jabilo’s cantrips. It is a very finely woven fabric with what was at one time a very professional embroider. It seems to be a picture of a black business on a yellow and blue field. Lucius, thinks it reminds him of one of the merchant guilds you see in the city…perhaps Sandorian…but isn’t sure. Jabilo, seems to think he has seen the symbol before sewn onto the cloak of Granbian back in Kembe…but isn’t 100% sure. Sunbows, mind jolts!

The building in the picture looks identical to the Omen of the Lost Lord…a dangerous proposition. Like the White Parrot, it is a warning of great danger brought about by foolishness. It lets one know, one who is willing to listen, that there will be a great trial. The trail will carry a great cost; but, if you survive, you will become wiser and more powerful. It is said that only the greatest of the Omen Masters successfully navigate the Omen of the Lost Lord.

Thinking back you recall the words of your mentor Londra’Zo

The Lord is a strange task. It will always appear that everything is going well. Lords are wealthy and have great power. They can shower you with gifts and bring you to great places. Know that a Lords will is his own though. He is motivated by what he needs and what he wants. If your whole tribe is in his way he might just destroy them all. He might just need you and your gifts. He might just drain you. His need isn’t the world…it is the palace he builds. No Que’Sambian needs the trapping of a palace, he has the forest, the earth, and the wind and rain. Don’t let the Lord steal these things from you.

There is deep silence in the tent, in the darkness, as the three of you contemplate your own thoughts. The silence goes on. And the night is uneventful.

Jabilo Dismounts and surveys the immediate area for safety, if anything looks at all suspicious he will summon Sunbow for his opinion. else he will pronounce the area suitable for setting up camp and point out any obvious place to set up the tent.
Lucius will check with Sir Dayton to ensure that the watch has been properly apportioned. He will find out what share of it is his own before climbing into the tent to find the meagre comfort of his blanket.

Though he is weary to the core, he has trouble falling asleep. His mind shrieks at him that the cloth recovered by the bird is just a bit of scrap, with no deeper meaning, but his instincts feel otherwise. He has found a deep respect for the native magic of this land and a feeling of foreboding scratches at his conscience like a bird scratching for seed.

Unable to sleep he rises, leaving the tent to check the camp and ensure all is well. Once he is satisfied, he will return to the tent to find what rest he may.
New Evidence

The devil in the back room of Kayman Solundra’s home has been vanquished. The party has split up to systematically search the home to find any incriminating evidence of involvement with Septum of Able or a clue as to his current whereabouts.

Sunbow and Jabilo searched the back. Sunbow noticed a trap door under the rug and the shackles with golden ruins on the bed. Jabilo found a very expensive assortment of lab equipment mandatory for creating potions, scrolls, and wondrous items.

While Sir Lucius and Sir Dayton took to the front room, an apparent store front for the magical wares of the owner. The place looked empty all of the display cases displayed nothing (yet were still fire trapped). During the search a large noble looking half-hound half-man creature asked the two knights to stop and leave the premises.

Hound archon for paizo by michael jaecks

A conversation ensued. Lucius explaining how Kayman is wanted in connection with crimes including: multiple murders, theft, and now association with the demonic. The noble hound addressed himself as Samuel and stated he knows nothing of these transgressions and that he made an honorable deal with Kayman to guard this room…an agreement he intends to keep.

Samuel speaks:

Look, the only reason you two are not dead right now is that I saw the symbol of Pelor on your surcoats. It is not very often I treat will people who break into properties and start destroying the interior. I need you all to step out the front door, as I am honor bound to enforce, in the eyes of all that is good. If Kayman is guilty I will suss it from him; but, in the meantime, I am bound to honor the agreement…just as he is. I need far more than your word to break that bond.

He tips the point of his sword to the ground and motions with his head to the front door, then looks at Jabilo and Sunbow at the back door and directs with his eyes for them to follow.






The jungle beast of the Mudrunners has been defeated. But not easily. Men were lost and wounds were inflicted. Simbe was sent ahead to gather the horses and garner help for the wounded. It was a slow trek back to the town of Doubt with the niggling worry of an encounter with a rogue squad of lizardfolk. A perilous chance for an injured party.

Upon entering the outskirts of Doubt there started a strange event: Cheers. Warriors and villagers alike seemed to recognize the party. Simbe was beaming with a knowing smile. Everyone the party greeted congratulated the party enthusiastically…

Jungle Nights PBP 2

Sunbow and Lucious are standing outside of the Northeastern tower on the church grounds of Pelor. Two of the Primate’s Honour Guard are standing vigil at the door to the tower.

Much to the surprise of Sunbow and Lucious, Jabilo and Victor walk out of the tower door quickly dismissing some conversation they were having.

Before accosts can be made Sunbow spots something strange in the dim rainy night. Almost with a premonitory acuity he spots movement on the roof of the courthouse/prison just on the other side of the churchyard. There are a group of people crouched low in the darkness furtively working at something.


The stone wall and gate are 12’ tall.
Each square is 5’
The Courthouse is a full two story stone building.
There are only a few torches still visible in the churchyard and sleepy village.
The gate is closed.
There is no one else visible: though you know there must be people in the stables, towers, and church.
V is Victor
S is Sunbow
J is Jabilo
Lu is Lucious
L are the lizardfolk
E is Enoch
G is one of the Primate’s honour guard

What do you do?

Jungle Nights PBP

Fort sun

The humid heat of the late summer day slowly turns to wet cool as the sun decends and the chirping of the insects replaces the colourfull business of the tropical birds. Fort Sun at night is a miggled mess of yellow torches and dark brown bodies entwined together like a living creature.

Sanbuun and his Rappid Water warriors have secured the Serpent Idol, covering it with cloth and mud they have locked it in a small wooden cage. They then transported the cage, with its contents, to the church where a group of four Lantern Knights, and four local warriors, alternately guard it—in the northeast tower.

Later in the evening, thick heavy drops of rain start to fall from the sky just as most torches are starting to be extinguished for the evening. A heavily armoured caravan enters Fort Sun with the standard of the Primate Joseph Cardel emblazoned on the side. In short order, the gates of the church are barred and locked and the Primate’s honour guard stands vigil outside the northeast tower preventing entry to all save the Council of the Sun. All is tense in the compound of the Vintarans.

The rest of the village, and sprawling refugee camps, settle into the normalcy of sleep under the canopy of jungle rain.

What do you do from early evening to the morning of the next day?

DM request*** Could you enter your current character info into the character section so I can make quick skill checks…thanks.

I will hope for humanity
I saved what I could

These “people” have no idea about the damage they are doing to the transfer of knowledge (historically speaking) or furthering of humanity. They destroy valuable references with seeming disregard for it’s worth (either historically or financially, I might add) and once again heed not my words. Pelor give me hope for our future.

I can’t imagine what kind of horrible past one must have had to pull down bookshelves full of ancient documents and tomes of knowledge and smash them onto the floor of an ancient chamber obviously protected from natural decay by some magic that cannot be comprehended by our feeble attempts at “Arcane” ways of thinking. I will pray for them, but I lose hope in the possibility of our continued survival if this is the kind of person who will thrive in our world. Pelor give me the strength to withstand this.

I honestly wonder

Oh, my Good and Holy Lord! I will continue later, but for now I must do my part to save these pieces of history from the heathens who care not for the knowledge that may one day save us all. I will save what I can and document what I cannot save to the best of my

Accepting Pelor's Will

I’ve now removed myself from the chambers that seemed to be the entrance of the fabled lost city of Thalia. Unless these idiot slave drivers find some semblance of wisdom, they will all perish soon, for they have no idea what they are delving into, and refuse to accept, or even consider the wisdom of others. May Pelor give them the gift of humility.

After being driven down into what seems to be a tomb of Boccobian priests by these heathens, myself and the huge brute who had no fear (but for some reason seemed content in his life of slavery to this “Shakir” tyrant) managed to destroy an obviously evil monstrous being of some kind, wreathed in flame, at least two men high, and had no soul that it cherished.

Unfortunately, the crazed barbarian has lost his life, and I had no means to save him. Though I struck down our mighty foe, I had not the power to save my deluded companion.

Pelor bless him and see his being for what it was. Count him amongst your worthy angels, as he truly embodies strength and valor.

Although I trust in Pelor to protect me in this life and after, I fully expect that I will be torn apart by these heathens, as they are completely ignorant to anything that could be considered rational, and seem to have no interest past their own monetary greed.

I only hope that my findings will make their way to minds that can see them for their value.

So I managed to survive again

Who would have thought that a simple academic such as myself would be so adept at survival?

After having my entire party slain by winged stone beasts immediately upon entering the secret passage to the lost city of Thalia (or Thaylia as some documents spell it), I lay praying to Pelor on the sun-parched rock of a huge chasm-like fissure in the earth. It seems as if he again heard my call, as before the beasts could tear me apart and devour me as they were doing to my…dare I say…friends, a huge Myvar man came hurdling through the illusory wall that guards the entrance to the valley and set upon the stone creatures. A few others followed, though I doubt that he needed their help, as he carved through their stone skin as if it were wet parchment.

Unfortunately, Pelor’s will was once again a double-edged blessing, as I was soon taken prisoner by the very hoarde of bandits that we had escaped from not one week earlier, and was treated as shabbily as before. I penned a correspondence to Ran-Adin, addressed to Bradley, who I left in charge of the renovation/expansion project of the Archives, though I have not high hopes for its arrival.

Although I willingly share my knowledge and years of extensive research with these men, they show little kindness to me, and in fact mocked my words and experience with the subject, and waded heedlessly into battle a short while later with the Purelanders, who had taken a fortified position in front of a doorway to what I can only assume is the entrance to the fabled city itself. Once again, the huge brute who came seemingly inadvertently to my rescue on the floor of the chasm charges alone into the ranks of men who hold the city.

Knowing that his death would prove fatal to us all, as he is surely the mightiest man I’ve yet seen, rivaled only by the late, foolhardy, epically-bad-decision-making, oathbreaking ex-Paladin with whom I was previously traveling, I charge in behind him, calling upon Pelor to aid me once again.

After fortifying my own personal defenses, I called into being a duo of magical steeds the likes of which have ne’er been seen. Majestic winged horses came to my aid and attacked furiously our enemies on their flanks as the barbarian carved his way through. Soon we had dispatched our adversaries and were relaxing comfortably in the shadow of the marvelous entry to the city I’d been pursuing for nearly ten years.

Oh, had I an artists skill with a brush! That magnificent facade, carved by magic from the very earth itself! I rendered it as well as I could, and searched for further knowledge amongst the belongings of those who had camped in its shadow for a time. After finding barely anything of note, I sat to document my travels thus far.

I will be sure to return to my documentation, but for now I must see what all the shouting is about. Oh, Pelor give me strength, the leader of the hoarde approaches…I fear I may not yet rest.

Dear Bradley

Dear Bradley,

I trust that the renovation of the East Wing of the Royal Archives is progressing splendidly under your watchful eye, and that my instructions for the expansion are being followed explicitly. I look forward to seeing the new integrated study hall in all its new splendor upon my return and look forward to the continuation of the project.

Unfortunately, our party has been slain, and I have been captured by some very angry Myvar.

As I have been temporarily detained, please ensure that King Darius has allotted the proper funding so that we can turn our attention to the South Wing when I return.

I fully expect that I will end up being ransomed back to the Crown and that the King will pay whatever the demanded sum to return me to my post as his loyal Master of Archives.

Until my return, best regards,


ps. Remember that the scrolls from 800-1000 are being moved back to the North Wing


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