The following is a excerpt from a manuscript recovered from the ruins of Ihram of the Pillars. Research shows it was written by a third century scholar named Furud al-Wahhab al-Bayati and recounts the legend of the Light Bringers during the chaos after the fall of the Immortals.
Journey Into the West
Chapter IX– The Elven Tower
I am Furud al-Wahhab al-Bayati, most faithful supplicant of Ishtar, humble son of the burning sands of the Alasiyan Desert. This morning I found myself sitting here in the bustling grand bazaar of the fabulous city of Ihram of the Pillars. As I sit and listen to the sounds of the bazaar I slowly sip my scalding hot kahve and I think back to the days of my youth. I had left my poor village in the desert hungry to see the world and to find grand adventure. The world I did see and adventures me did have. Adventure, I have learned, is a dangerous trade, one fraught with incredible peril.
During my days in service to the hairy little berserker Oberron, I travelled with many brave adventurers, my life had never been more exciting or more imperiled. They were the Lightbringers: the fiery Khanum, the lithe Sword Dancer, the savage Wolf, the taciturn Mamlūk and his brother the oafish Hashishi. Then there were all of their followers, the dour spellblade, the mad nightblade, the dwarven wall of muscle, the elven soldiers, the freed human slaves and a dog named Tycho. Those brave humans, elves and dwarves stood against the greatest evil the world has ever known, but today I tell the story of the Tower of Eammon Tor and its capture by the Lightbringers.
I remember waiting in the party’s hidden camp watching them march off into the gathering darkness of the late evening. They were going to gain access to the tower via a long forgotten sewer entrance. With surprise on their side, they hoped to eliminate the leadership of the army, throwing it into chaos. We were to watch the tower from afar and if we saw an opportunity we were to make our way to the slave pens and start freeing slaves.
Personally I thought it was a ridiculous plan that only a fool would attempt. They would be outnumbered forty to one and there was no telling what horrors lay hidden in that crumbling tower. The fact that the twins came up with this plan only illustrates the dubiousness of it.
It was warmer down here in the foot hills of the borderlands, but still cold in the evenings. I had brewed a kettle of shay bālqrfh (Transl. cinnamon tea) and nursed the campfire as we waited. The sky was clear and the stars shone brightly in the night sky. The moons rose and crossed the night sky. Pantera, the red moon of chaos, chasing after Matera, the white moon of the gods. It is said by the older herdsmen of my village that one day Pantera will catch Matera and the final battle between the gods of law and chaos will begin.
As the night stretched on the moons had set and still no signs of anything unusual coming from the tower. Everyone in the camp was on edge, we should have seen something by now. We saw little activity in the fortified camp outside the gates of the tower, the beastmen maintained their normal patrols.
The sky to the east had begun to lighten, the sun would soon be up, but still nothing. As the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon a pillar of light shot straight up into the air from atop the tower. Shortly afterward the boom of thunder and jagged bolts of lightning began to come crashing down. An epic battle had begun at the top of the tower.
Arnie the dwarf turned to us and told us to follow him. I made a silent prayer to Ishtar and begged her for protection. The dwarf led us to the hidden culvert and we soon entered the lowest level of the tower. We found ourselves in a large chamber with a cesspool. I did not know what smelled worse, the cesspool or what lay next to it. Two great and horrid creatures laid half out of the pool, they bore many wounds and were quite dead. It seemed my master and his comrades had made their acquaintance.
We soon began to climb stone stairs leading up were we found ourselves in a circular room dominated by a massive marble crypt. It was hand carved with exquisite detail and bore the graceful and elegant writings of the elves. In the center of the crypt a shield had been inserted, I recognized the shield. It was of ancient elven design and been recovered from the depth of the lost dwarven vault by The Mamlūk. Why he would leave it here of all place I did not know, he would not have placed it there without good purpose. Littering the floor of the chamber were the bones of the long dead, some poor unfortunate souls from a time long forgotten. At the end of the chamber there was another staircase but it was blocked by a pile of dead bugbears. We had to drag the horrid smelling bodies out of the way before we could go any further.
As we climbed the stairs to the next level, I caught a strong whiff of something coppery, death. We soon found ourselves in a circular passageway that was drenched in blood and gore. The bodies of dead bugbears lay everywhere, but none of the Lightbringers were evident. Nailed to the wall by a large iron spike was the head of a particular fierce looking bugbear. I would later found out that this was none other than Ulrik Eye-Gouger himself. The Mamlūk had borne him great ill will and it would seem he finally delivered his vengeance upon the bugbear chieftain. The rest of the floor contained even more dead bugbears and a room full of treasure.
We pushed on and upwards, we walked into a maelstrom. The next level was the ground floor of the tower and the sound of battle could be heard coming from the upper levels. The dwarf and the humans ran towards the doors of the tower dispatching several orcs. With a mighty heave the dwarf flung open one of the door and we could see the fortified camp and the slave pens below. The tower shook and dust rained down on us as another lightning bolt rocked the tower. Arnie and one of the man-at-arms began killing beastmen, while the female warrior came with me to release the slaves from the pens.
With the help of the freed slaves, the beastmen in the camp were soon overwhelmed. Arnie came and found me, dragging me out of the safe cozy little hut that I had found. He and the other retainers dragged me through the chaos back into that slaughterhouse inside the tower. Arnie led the way, felling any one that got in his way. Arnie was extremely devoted to the Khanum, for she had freed him from captivity. He was determined to go and fight by her side. We finally made it to the top of the tower and I gasped, there had been a lot of stairs and I was short of breath.
The top of the tower was littered with the scores of the dead, most of them were ogres and orcs. The Wolf was down on one knee clutching his massive two handed sword, he was covered in blood and his breathing was labored. I could see the female elven spellblade crumbled on the ground, split in twain next to her master The Mamlūk, who was gravely wounded. His brother was beside him desperately trying to stanch his wounds, while the mad female nightblade walked among the fallen enemy killing any who still breathed..
I looked around for my master but could not see him, I walked among the dead until I saw his arm sticking out beneath a pile of dead beastmen. I called to Arnie for help and together we hauled the bodies off of my master. He laid at the bottom of the pile, greviouly wounded. I called out for the Bladedancer for aid, but heard no anwser. I looked around and saw her body on the ground. Her face a ruin from a savage blow.
At first I saw no sign of our Khanum, but I spied a figure exiting the minaret attached to the top of the tower. At first I did not recognize who it was. As the armored warrior approached, the wind blew and I spied red hair flowing out of the helmet, it was her, our Khanum. Her old garb had been replaced with armor of silver and jet, her head covered by a winged helm plumed with black feathers.
She now wielded a long spear crafted of ancient dawn redwood and tipped with a leaf-shaped spearhead of bright orichalcum counterbalanced by an orchicalcum butt-spike. She took off her helmet and spoke to the others, her voice was heavy and low, colored by anger and frustration. She told them that someone named Leonius had escaped and taking with him both of the Banes and the Fire Seeds.
She reached down beside the Bladedancer and took the enchanted staff the cleric always kept wrapped up. She took the staff and began to heal the wounds of the fallen. The Bladedancer was the first to be revived, who opened her one good eye looked around at the carnage. The nest to be revived was The Mamuk and my master.
She then gathered the ones that could still fight and led them down into the tower. There were still fighting going on in the tower. The Wolf, The Hashishi and Arnie rose to their feet, and followed her. Soon the dying screams and wails of beastmen could be heard echoing out through the tower as the heroes let loose their frustration on the remaining beastmen. I stayed behind with my master and prayed to Ishtar to grant her grace upon him.
The Lightbringers had won a great battle, but it seemed to be a pyrrhic victory.
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