recursal/Fanatic-Fandom huggingface dataset:
The Rise of the Golems

The most accurate accounts I could find were all secondhand, unfortunately. Yet the symmetry between the accounts lends them at least a measure of credence, and I take some encouragement from that.

The year was 237, sometime in late summer, believed to be the Seventh Day of Reaping (yes, that is correct; on Ploughman's Day), yet that date seems too clean and convenient for me to lend it much credence. It was reportedly a long, hot day, and all in Straussendor were hard at work preparing their households for the onset of winter. Just before sundown, a great flash of green erupted across the sky, which gave all who saw it feelings of unease and foreboding. Most accounts agree it began with the bound bales of hay, which began to shift fitfully, like a creature rousing from slumber. As these coalesced into shambling bipedal shapes, streams started to rise into uneven lumps, eventually vomiting out quantities of river clay, which resolved into shapes similar to the hay golems. Following these, stone figures began to assemble themselves from boulders and cliffsides. Lastly, and most concerning of all came the graveyards; the fresher graves began to expel the rotting dead, which quickly grasped hold of each other, melding into reeking flesh golems.

Now, scholars reading this account will no doubt know that golems (apart from applicable elementals and galeb duhr) are not naturally occurring creatures; they must be assembled and animated by a practitioner of great power and discipline, and are then under said mage's will. Wherein lies the greatest concern. No wizard, sorcerer, druid, warlock, cleric, paladin--in short, no caster within the realm--was able to be identified as the cause of this sudden uprising. Every augur and diviner in the kingdom found themselves utterly stymied.

Whatever the case, these new golems wandered the land amilessly for a full lunar cycle. Despite the listless nature of the uncontrolled golems, the damage to the Grand Duchy was immense. Straw golems would wander into flame, attracted by the odd light, and would then stumble around in their pain and confusion, lighting surrounding structures in their panic. Clay and stone golems would blunder through fences and houses alike, the clay also causing landslide, and the stone dining on expensive city walls at their leisure. There was even rumor of a tremendous iron monstrosity wandering through Hexiun, which apparently ate an entire armory's worth of arms and armor. But worst of all was the flesh menace from the graves, which spread a deadly plague across the land that killed one out of every twelve citizens of this fair realm.

What is the purpose of this account? With no answers from the past, perhaps a faithful account will lend clues to the investigators of potential future occurrences of like nature.

*Recorded by Scribe Simholme*
April 2019

Main hub for schedules from **April 2019**.

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Wedzleydail's Repair Request

To the curate at the Monastery on Wheshu,

I hope I find you well, sir. This is in response to a certain item I purchased from one of your members a fortnight ago. At first, I had no complaints. It was a fine ring, with a stunning fairy-ruby set on an elegant silver band. I was told it would help my wife feel less isolated when I was abroad with my troop, the Giff Thirty-Second Batallion. The statement was accurate, *but it has gone too far, sir*. My wife has gone crackers, and is suing me for divorce. She has apparently fallen madly for the entity bound to this ring, and has decided she's no need for me anymore! I was only barely able to wrest the wring off her finger, and am sending via express courier to get the damned thing fixed.

I am disappointed sir, *most* disappointed. I'll have you know that if she indeed decides to divorce me as previously stated, *I will be suing you forthwith*.

Peevishly yours,

Sir Heiram Wedzleydail.
Bolas

Martial Weapon

Special Property: Entangling. This item is designed to be used against winged creatures. Upon impacting a winged flying creature with a ranged attack by throwing the bolas, the creature must succeed on a DC 10 Strength saving throw (or spell save DC for Saboteurs). On a success, they shrug the weapon off. On a failure, their wings are pinned, and they fall to the ground, suffering any fall damage. They may repeat the save on each of their turns using an action. Please note: this only works on wing-propelled creatures. magically flying creature are unaffected.
Species: Orc

Ever the servants of Hjurn and Quarx, the Orcs were one of the first species in the realm capable of large-scale warfare. With the orcs' broad shields and impenetrable armor, none of the then-bronze-wielding denizens of Meradyne were able to capably defend themselves or perform effective invasions against the orcish tribes. That is, until the creation of battle magic. After many years of restful supremacy in the region, wizards, warlocks and sorcerers started cropping up on the battle lines. Enchanters made their own weapons and armor wage battle against the orcish defenders. Illusionists turned their foes' focus to illusory enemies, exposing the orcish flanks to the actual attackers. Worst of all were the evokers, who turned their magnificent armors into inescapable ovens, cooking the orcish host on the battlfield.

The orcs haven't trusted mages since.

After the species in Meradyne all started to settle down, the orcs realized their economic potential far outweighed their martial potential. In the southern reaches, Yargish Ha-Raani was founded, which quickly became the most profitable foundry in the Grand Duchy. To this day, it is one of the richest (and wildest) cities in Meradyne. There is an iconic, brutal artistry to their craft, featuring sharp, jagged edges that can be used as an auxiliary weapon in battle. The only safe side of an orcish shield is the arm band.

While all orcs were raised with metallurgic knowledge, some of the stranger orcish children move on to become bakers, painters, farriers, or gods forbid, even mages. These last are not necessarily treated as outright traitors, but are still viewed with a great deal of suspicion.

Why should you play an orc? If you've always wanted to razz the wizard of the party, look no further.

Related Documentation: The Orcish City
Sentient Species of the Grand Duchy

The below represent the playable species in the Grand Duchy. If you click through the link, you will be able to see the greater context in which these species generally reside. While you are not necessarily required to meld your character with these guidelines, most NPC's you come upon will generally expect you adhere to these niches, and will be surprised to hear otherwise. Whether that surprise takes the form of delight, suspicion, or confusion, only time will tell.

* Aarakocra
* Aasimar
* Astral Elf
* Autognome
* Bugbear
* Centaur
* Changeling
* Dhampir
* Dragonborn
* Dwarf
* Eladrin
* Elf
* Fairy
* Firbolg
* Genasi
* Giff
* Githyanki
* Githzerai
* Gnome
* Goblin
* Goliath
* Hadozee
* Halfling
* Harengon
* Hexblood
* Hobgoblin
* Human
* Kalashtar
* Kenku
* Kobold
* Leonin
* Lizardfolk
* Lodelight Elf (New)
* Loxodon
* Minotaur
* Mixed Heritage
* Orc
* Owlin
* Palagaia (New)
* Petrix (New)
* Plasmoid
* Reborn
* Satyr
* Sea Elf
* Shadar Kai
* Shifter
* Simic Hybrid
* Tabaxi
* Thri-Keen
* Tiefling
* Torrine (New)
* Tortle
* Triton
* Vedalken
* Warforged
* Yuan-Ti
The Acranoprismatic Theorem on Undiscovered Plasmoid Cultures

"Red for the darker arts, necromantic ties

Orange is evocation's make, color of the pyre

Yellow is illusive, wrapping wielder in disguise

Green is for enchantment, twisting foe's desire

Blue for conjuration, calling forth from chaos' weave

Indigo for abjuration, shielding mage from pain

Violet is all-knowing, mind's eye peering past deceit

Tornine is transmutive, known to drive wielder insane"

Dear reader, no doubt you are familiar with the ancient Poem of the Weave. This has to do with the schools of magic that correspond to the Weave, which are also represented by the colors of the ley lines, as well as the rainbow (including the invisible color Tornine, only visible to the magically potent).

What I find interesting is the fact that plasmoid communities have been found in accordance with six of these colors, and yet indigo and tornine tribes have not been discovered. While some would simply say they do not exist, I insist they *do* exist, and simply have not been found for logical reasons. First, let us look at indigo; as the Poem of the Weave indicates, this is the color of *abjuration*. The magic of protection from deadly forces and prying eyes. No wonder we haven't discovered them! Their very nature resists discovery. In the same way, Tornine is a color invisible to all but the magically potent. And who do we send on these expeditions? Rangers! While very capable and useful, Rangers' magical ability is somewhat limited, but they are sent on these missions because a full-fledged wizard would not fare well in the wilds. For this reason, I propose these college-funded scouting missions be staffed by both rangers *and* wizards, or at least sorcerers, if we cannot spare the wizards.

*A study penned by the now-ridiculed wizard Senreich Seisenvald.*
Why Throw This Body Out When We Can Reuse It?

I swear to the gods, if one of you upstarts starts spreading the news that old Professor Grapejuice is trying his hand at necromancy, I'll throw my hat at you. What makes you think I approve of that kind of thing, and that I haven't already done it? But let's get into hypotheticals here:

Say I have the body of a young Halfling lad. So sad, so dead, all that grief and whatnot. But what the public doesn't know is, if I cover the little fella up with banana leaves and bury him in a dragon mound, he'll pop up fresh as a daisy and smell of fresh roasted pork. This is hypothetical you understand (coughing nervously). Now, if that were a possibility, what would be inherently *wrong* about that? A service has been done for the little guy and his family, but here they come to ride poor Professor Grapejuice out on a rail! I have given the gift of LIFE to a DEAD CHILD, and they're going to take it out of my *hide*? You see anything WRONG there?!

(Tirade of coughing, cursing and throwing erasers around the classroom)

Anyway, I digress. Your homework for today is to find me a newt. Extra credit if it has a frill. They look more high-class that way. Get out please. Quickly. Loudly. Cover my escape.

*One of the ill-fated lectures of Professor Grapejuice, the third time he was run out of Kabu.*
Species: Tiefling

Few have known suffering as the Tieflings have. The remnants of the victims of the Nine Hells, none now have records of what species their forebears were, and now consider themselves to simply be Tieflings. As the hells warped the victims, their skins turned unusual colors, and horns started to sprout from their heads. The enslavement and suffering lasted nearly a century, until, in the year 386, the suffering host escaped the nine hells in a mass exodus, aided by a mysterious presence from within the nine hells. Going only by the name Intercessor, the mysterious entity remained in the hells after the exodus, presumably to finish its inscrutable business.

Most Tieflings choose their surname based off of where they were from. For instance, if one escaped from the realm of Dis, they might choose the last name A'Dis. If they came from Cania, perhaps they would choose the appellation Excania. Whatever the case, the escaped host live their lives in gratitude and peace, seeking to delight in the world around them and do their part to make it a better place. With the exception of the Corrupt.

The Corrupt are those that were brought on the Exodus against their will. This relatively small collection of Tieflings resent being plucked from their dark home by their parents or friends, and reflect the desires and tenets of the hell from which they were pulled. These don't tend to live in Exabysm long, but prefer to wander the world, seeking and destroying in accordance with their particular avarice.

Why play a Tiefling? People will always view you with awe, curiosity, and perhaps fear. Could be some fun RP possibilities!

Related Documentation: The Exodus
Species: Halfling

Halflings are not the oldest species in the realm, but they sure act like it. While other sentient species are running around, getting involved in scraps, competitive commerce, politics and higher art forms, Halflings love nothing more than a good morning's work, followed by a three hour lunch, four pints of beer and a pipe of tobacco. You know, *to prepare for dinner*. Halfling dinners are a sight to behold. Even a small Halfling dinner would split the stomach of your average human, and would send a dwarf to bed with a stomach-ache. And yet, after eating their weight in food, a proper Halfling dinner party would simply rise, state their admiration for such a quaint little dinner, and adjourn to the field to dance away the evening.

Broadly speaking, Halflings have a love of arts that can be done anywhere and anytime, often secreted away in a pocket or handbag until they find a spare minute or two to fiddle with it. Whittling, needlepoint, puzzleboxes and little handheld games (such as cup-and-ball) are frequently made by Halflings.

As far as careers go, Halflings generally gravitate towards jobs that require less and less work the better you get at them. If a farmer can train an ox to plow the field all by itself, hey, fantastic. The town needs a Notary? Perfect! What could be easier? For this reason, Halflings are frequently the best at what they do, and think absolutely nothing of it.

The vast majority of the Halfling folk hail from Siolyburgh, but can generally be found anywhere that has a robust food supply and a relaxed atmosphere.

Why should you play a Halfling? This is the opportunity to dream big on the food front, and make everyone at the table drool. Also, if you want a chill yet mischievous character, look no further.

Related Documentation: Children's Day Catering List for Shamblin' Kurt
Species: Firbolg

The Firbolg people are rumored to have risen from the wildlands of the Slavering Steppe during the advent of the Lore Gods. As the large, furry bipeds emerged from the wilds, many viewed their emergence as a promise from the three learned gods, especially Vyazhin, who had seen fit to impart its wisdom to even the beasts of the land. A rather unfair view, as their true origins are from long before the arrival of the Lore Gods. And despite the public clamor for a new age of civilization and knowledge, the wilds remain untamed to this day.

Firbolgs share one primary trait- their connection to the wilds. From the depths of the earth to the spire of the tallest mount, from ocean to desert, affinity for the natural world resonates through them. For that reason, Firbolgs generally exist within two capacities in society. Either they live on the outskirts of the town, where they can access the natural world most easily, or they live within the city, and dedicate much time to reintroducing nature to their urban surroundings. The latter occasionally run into trouble, as planting an oak in the middle of a footpath is considered undesirable by the townsfolk at large.

Despite their close ties to Giantkind, Firbolgs don't tend towards forge work, but rather stick to macrame and painting. These both tend to use natural dyes, and each Firbolg has their own personal blend they guard carefully, even going so far as to keep their signature recipe hidden from their own family.

Why play a Firbolg? Honestly, talking to trees but being completely oblivious to their response is a crackup. Also, the spell perks are tasty. Invisibility, no matter how short duration, can get you out of some big scrapes.

Related Documentation: Sciminik's Forgotten Blend
Species: Plasmoid

Plasmoids are largely rumored to be the result of a stray strand of magic weave and the endpoint of a ley line colliding. This is a rare occasion, but has occurred at least six times. Two more occasions are suspected to have either happened in a far-reaching areas, or are going to happen in the near future.

Despite their striking appearance, Plasmoids are rather like most other sentient lifeforms, with goals, desires, fears, friends, enemies, family units and communities. Where they differ most is architecture. While any other species would require an ordinary door to get into their home, or windows to let in the natural light to see, a Plasmoid can shrink and stretch, able to enter their homes through small shafts that are no more than one inch in diameter. They also have darkvision, able to see in pitch blackness, so their houses are almost never lit inside. No doubt you can imagine how these two distinctions would make things difficult when one wishes to have non-Plasmoid guests over.

While these amorphous creatures are happy to embrace all art forms, they specialize in those that resemble themselves, especially clay sculpting, glassblowing and the making of fountains. As far as career opportunities go, there is always an opening for someone who can shrink to small to get into tight spaces. Mechanical tinkering, search and rescue, and even some spycraft are among the usual career paths for them.

Why should you play a Plasmoid? Shock and awe, my friend. Oh, and being able to travel the world as a gooey strand of twine when necessary.

Related Documentation: The Acranoprismatic Theorem on Undiscovered Plasmoid Cultures
The Three Rangers' Lodge Bounty

Issuing Party: Sisteck, Ickinnu and Tash-Nakh of the Hephtan Brood, AKA the Three Rangers

Spoils: the Three Rangers' Lodge and its contents

Ground for Claimant: Discover the Three Rangers' Lodge, owned by the Issuing Party. Upon discovery, remove the three scales above the mantle, taken from the carapaces of the Issuing Party. If found to be matching three scales kept on record in the Cielgaard Reserve, the bounty will be considered fulfilled.

Expiration: This contract remains valid until the Lodge has been discovered and awarded.

Signed and notarized by Yllin Scalline, somewhat under duress.

Please note that my tea was interrupted by this signing. Pray show better manners when coming to claim this prize.
The Key to Rebirth

It is said a narrow river runs through the underworld, and one has a tri-pronged decision when they arrive: pick the east, choose the west, or resolve to raft between them. On the eastern bank wait the honors and the duties of life--the call of one’s family, stately roles in the undervillage, acts of valor and sacrifice. And on the west bank lies the allure of self-fulfillment--the call of a lost lover, wine to quench the ever-present thirst, the promise of long, silent rest. But the only escape from that gloomy copse is to raft between them, heeding none of the temptations and pleas from either side and gazing impassively ahead. Upon passing from those dim forests, one will crest the brink of those lands and fall into shadow, and the shade of that woman or man will be brought into the sunlit lands once again. Though, whether or not they are reborn in the same form is a mysterious question.

*Recorded by the bard Aurivit, Water-Caller of the village Bestimmir.*
Species: Human

Most of the elder races agree: watching a human is exhausting. Of all the short-lived races, humans seem to take it the most personally. Possessed of insatiable hunger for achievement and notoriety, a vast (if crude) human city will spring up in half the time a dwarvish or elvish city will, appearing "almost overnight", as one old Astral Elf said it. This hunger can often run into trouble. Of all the liches that have come to be, more than a quarter of them were humans, attempting to overcome their lifespan barrier. This wildly disproportionate number has caused many to regard magically potent humans with distrust, and even fear.

Another thing about humans--they're everywhere! They seem to be able to insinuate their way into any city, any court, any bandit camp, any *anything*. Such charisma! Such lust for life! Willing to do great and terrible things! How is one to keep up with such energy?

For this reason, humans can be found doing all art forms and career types, even those they have no business attempting. Pearl diving? No, they can't breathe, but there they are on the seafloor, with some ridiculous spell or apparatus to overcome their difficulties. Working with toxic paints? Not a problem; they just cobble together a re-breather, or learn another risky spell. Madness, I tell you!

Why should you play a human? Well, +1 to all base stats is awful alluring, and the roleplay options for an exhausting human that is *simply too much* for many other could be fun!

Related Documentation: Thes'Ulorian's Tirade
Suckered by a Slow Sly Sneak

I been suckered by a slow sly sneak,

Selling sorrel and salt as salve

I been conned by a cruel crazed creep,

Calling canned cold cod a potent cure.

Trust ye not in the tall, tired tortle telling

Wives and nans "try the tea!"

My gut goes gurgle and my bile doth gush

From the great scaled fiend that fooled me.

*A somewhat insensitive drinking song popular in Zletograd, Siolynburgh and Dosial.*
Species: Harengon

There is no debate that the Harengons in Meradyne originated in Ironpines. The real question is, did these leporine bipeds enter the Grand Duchy via portal, or are Harengons a mutation of hares that were in the zone during the portal's advent? Many point to the Centaurs as their point of reference (though the stories of their mutagenic origins are still very suspect, and have yet to be proven). But whatever the case, all are certain that the Harengons do not think the same way other species do. Do not mistake this as a statement regarding their foolishness- some of the greatest magical and scientific advancements came from a Harengon using extraordinarily unconventional means to advance their fields. For instance, it was first a Harengon who discovered the revivify spell; who knew that a fairly expensive diamond could rekindle life's spark? And yet there Professor Grapejuice was, sprinkling diamond dust into a dead cat's open wounds. They say the beast refused to leave his side until it died eight years later, and that time for good.

Perhaps the strangest aspect of Harengon culture is the fact that they choose their own names when they feel ready, and the choices can be most unusual. They generally name themselves after objects. The aforementioned Grapejuice is an example. Likewise, there's Washbasin, Lemonade, Great Gates, and Garden Rake, to name a few. Very odd indeed.

Harengon art is... beyond impressionistic. Painting and carving are favorite pastimes of the species, and you never know what will come of a Harengon art party. Many erupt into violence, as each Harengon's unknowable tastes can clash violently with another's; there's just no knowing what will set an aspiring artist off. As far as commerce goes, your average Harengon could take to anything. Anything at all. And whatever they take to, the obsession is downright frightening.

In this day and age, Harengons can be found anywhere, really, but most prefer the cities. This is because they're the safest place to indulge in the many chaotic flavors of life. While the Everlode or The Lighthouse are certainly havens of chaos, it's generally not the survivable kind.

Why should you play a Harengon? This is a great choice if you want to embrace the chaos, or want to have a strict moral compass that nobody else will be able to fathom.

Related Documentation: Scimdun Alchemical Procedure
Species: Kalashtar

It is said that the Kalashtar are born of the friendship shared between Chata of the Woods and Old Naja, which results in an unusually wise being, filled with unearthly powers and perception. These creatures can be birthed from any species, but regardless of parentage, grow to become roughly humanlike, with pale purple hair and irises, and generally tend towards lawful good alignment. This can be quite jarring for parent and child alike. A hobgoblin is just not expecting to give birth to a human-like offspring. And gods help the Kalashtar born to an evil family or tribe; their behavior and adherence to good and order may just result in their death at the hands of their peers.

These creatures are similar to the Golemborn, as far as being few and far-between. That said, their sparse population can be found anywhere, and are frequently involved in courts, mediation positions, and counseling. Their homes are decorated with delicate and thoughtfully-made art, as well as quirkier pieces made by those they are fond of.

Why should you play a Kalashtar? If you want the role of the party's moral backbone, it's a great choice. And the perks are *choice*.

Related Documentation: Old Friends and Wise Words
Apt

命令行软件包管理器 apt 提供软件包搜索，管理和信息查询等功能。

它提供的功能与其他 APT 工具相同（像 apt-get 和 apt-cache），

但是默认情况下被设置得更适合交互。

常用命令：

* list - 根据名称列出软件包
* search - 搜索软件包描述
* show - 显示软件包细节
* install - 安装软件包
* reinstall - 重新安装软件包
* remove - 移除软件包
* autoremove - 卸载所有自动安装且不再使用的软件包
* update - 更新可用软件包列表
* upgrade - 通过 安装/升级 软件来更新系统
* full-upgrade - 通过 卸载/安装/升级 来更新系统
* edit-sources - 编辑软件源信息文件
* satisfy - 使系统满足依赖关系字符串

参见 apt(8) 以获取更多关于可用命令的信息。

程序配置选项及语法都已经在 apt.conf(5) 中阐明。

欲知如何配置软件源，请参阅 sources.list(5)。

软件包及其版本偏好可以通过 apt\_preferences(5) 来设置。

关于安全方面的细节可以参考 apt-secure(8).

                                        本 APT 具有超级牛力。
Letter to Scribe Himbolshakkin

Good day, Himbolshakkin.

I hope this letter finds you well. In fact, that is the entire intention of this missive; are you safe and well?

I wept and tore at my hair when I'd heard you left in the night to seek out the Goliath Village in the Everlode. Full marks for bravery, of course, but that horrid environment is no place for a fellow, even a Goblin as resourceful as yourself! I hope you've fallen in with a band of Torrine, who are true-hearted, even if they are kleptomaniacal. I pray you are not even now huddled in a cave, hiding from some terror lizard.

If you do find the Goliaths in the hills, I hope they will treat you as one of their own. As a weaker member of the tribe (which, being an outsider, you would certainly be considered on), they ought to lavish you with the best of provision, shelter and fire. If such is the case, stay there until the winter thaws and a rescue party can be sent! I will pull all my strings and get a group of stalwart individuals together to extract you. So chin up, my foolhardy fellow. Keep the faith, and stay strong.

Peace be with you,

Scribe Simholme

*A letter dispatched to on Himbolshakkin. This letter was found on the body of a middle-aged harengon, which was laid next to the body of a goblin. Both were discovered at the bottom of a cliff in the Everlode.*
The Roots of Anaasim

My dear Silverbell,

Perhaps this shall find you, and perhaps it shan't. But whatever the case may be, my survival is... unlikely. I wish here to unburden myself of an evil I have uncovered in the realm, a creeping plague set upon these lands in their impressionable adolescence.

I dare say you are familiar with the concepts of cults, friend? Where there are gods, there are bound to be unscrupulous sycophants, content to corrupt and inflate existing truths to suit their needs and fancies. Many of these are harmless, or too small to cause widespread harm. Yet I tell you this in the most earnest of tones: there is an insidious coven who claim themselves to be servants of Anaasim, yet corrupt the divine teachings at every turn. They are few, yet powerful, including many religious hierarchs, successful politicians, wealthy merchants, and I say with trembling, even a few of the barons and baronesses. These consider themselves the few worthy of moving and shaping the world, playing a game of dragon chess that encompasses the entire Grand Duchy, and even exceeds its borders! A dead minor politician here, a destroyed settlement here, a destabilized economy there- their movements seem unrelated and random, but I assure you, they are the most cunning kind of handiwork. Yet I beg of you, draw no weapon upon anyone, for not every blusterer with a gleaming vault is a part of these swine, these "Roots of Anaasim". Yet be ever vigilant. If you do happen to identify a member of this church of demons, and if you feel you are at their advantage, strike swiftly and secretly, and leave no witness, for if you are identified in any way with their death or the knowledge of the organization, your life is forfeit. Even as mine is.

I have sent this through my own decrypted channels and addressed it to one of your pseudonyms in attempts to protect you from the swift vengeance that is sure to fall upon me within the next few days. Hours, perhaps. Be brave, my dear, dear colleague, and above all, never surrender to whims of the evil ones.

Your friend in life,

Horax Vangardtner
The Original Ironpines Incursion

"I wasn't there, mind, but me old nan was, and though she used to spin many an embellished yarn back in her day, she assured me she told this one true. It was the day after Baker's Jam, an all were out in the woods foraging for that last bit o' food before Winter hit and ol Naja started looking around for the old and sick. Now her village was smack between Siolynburgh and Cielgaard, in the forest by the name of Ironpines. She found some lovely mushrooms in a ring between some grand old oaks. They were eatable, so nan started filling her basket before someone else got there and gathered em up. Just as she stooped down to pick a beautiful honeycap, three of the oaks split open with a horrid creaking, and a green light poured out. All manner of pixies, goatmen and snake-limbed panthers jumped out of the open trees and advanced on her. Of course, my nan was no fool, and let out into the woods as soon as she saw em. but one of the pixies' stray magic bolts hit her on her way. To the day she died, that leg started to hurt when it was about to rain, and she also found everywhere she went, she could find a copper coin just waiting for her. I suppose you'd call it a "knack".

"From that day forward, oh boy, we had soldiers, mounters and even a few heavy-ordinance ballistas trundle through our little burg. After about a month and half of warfare in the Ironpines, there was no reason for any of us to stick around, so our whole village headed north, and our bloodlines all survive in Siolynburgh to this day."

Subject nattered on about family, bloodlines, local fey-curses and his rather obtuse opinion of all fey-origin among us, but I saw no reason to record such nonsense here.

*An account of the initial attack that began what was called the Ironpines Incursion*, *as related by Ruddy Barby and recorded by Scribe Simholme*
Followers of the Storm

> **⚠️** *This article contains major spoilers for the entire book. Please proceed with caution.* **⚠️**
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Book 3 - Followers of the Storm

### Length

264 pages

**Followers of the Storm** is the third book in the Treasure Huntress Saga.

## Synopsis

*A fanatical religious cult has seized a mysterious Viking runestone, putting the life of one of Simone's closest friends in jeopardy. Vowing to return the runestone, Simone sets off on a journey that blurs the lines between ally and enemy, right and wrong, good and evil*.

## Characters

* Simone Cassidy
* Lincoln Lewis
* April Farren
* Clark Bannicheck
* Halvar Ran
* Laurel Forsberg
* Solomon Loy
* Lilly Belladonna
* Georgia Gates
* Isaac Lancaster
Little Children of the Spirits

Little Fjunite, waving hair

Beloved of the water.

Fire child of the smoke,

Quarx's little daughter.

Son of tree is Chata's flesh,

Twigs and leaves for hair.

A child of Hjurn has stony gaze

Eyes of slate so bare.

Those of Quint live in the wind,

Bathing in the breeze,

Friend of spirits, Naja's child,

Living amongst the trees.
A Water-Caller's Charge

When I first learned I was to become the region's Water-Caller, I assumed it was a death sentence. As the appointed companion of Fjun, this is not a far stretch of the mind; Fjun is a being of mischief and chaos, prone to deeds of cruelty and irony. But this is the very reason a Water-Caller exists! Yes, perhaps to be the primary butt of her jokes, and even to occasionally suffer at her hand, but far, far more than that. The Water-Caller is the counsellor of Fjun, ever-persuading her to be kindly and good-natured in her pranks. The deeper your understanding of the River Nymph, the more effective you will be at this role. In addition, the closer you grow to her, the more her power overshadows you, and her power is *formidable*.

That said, there is a certain degree of corruption that accompanies the role. The avaricious among us will succumb to the allure of power, treating her as a benefactor and lobbying for her gifts and boons at whatever cost. The more foolhardy will rather treat her as a righteous deity, following whatever foolish tenets she devises for them out of a twisted sense of devotion. I myself have had perspective shifts, and have tuned my harp to the rising and falling of her moods. Whatever the case, it is the duty of the Water-Caller to sense the shifts not only within Fjun, but within themselves, and attempt to smooth out those ripples as much as possible.

So, young Water-Caller, do not despair. But do not fall into the pitfall of bravado, either. Keep a right mind and heart, and you may just survive this job until your successor comes.

Honorary Daughter of Fjun,

Aurivit, Water-Caller of the central tribes.
Report: The Labyrinth on the Slavering Steppe

Location: The Labyrinth, the Slavering Steppe

Date: the 14th of Broken Earth

Mission: Operation Bloodhound

Report:

The structure was breached on the 8th of Broken Earth, and the casualties were tremendous. Companies Ballyhoo and Remorhaz got lost in the structure within six minutes of breaching, and were torn apart by the guardian. A full retreat was sounded. Fourteen deaths were confirmed, and seven more were later discovered after the structure had been swept.

Upon sounding the retreat, we regrouped and approached the structure from a new angle: Siege. Artillerists and Saboteurs cobbled together ballistae and catapults, which were then enchanted and moved to the east and west perimeters of the Labyrinth. The order to fire was given at sunrise on the 11th. Within a few hours of solid bombardment, the walls fell, as well as a great many walls within the maze itself.

The guardian of the labyrinth then wandered out. One of his horns was cracked, and he seemed unsteady on his hooves. We expected a great battle, but he simply watched impassively as company after company ran into the maze, eventually sauntering off towards the south. Some of the troops called it wisdom, realizing the structure was breached beyond defense. But it seemed... more to me. Like what he was departed, and something else took his place, and walked off in his body.

All that to say, I have put out a message to the heralds to warn of the creature, lest it begin to wreak havoc in the cities.

Report concluded.

Penned by Sylvius Markronia
Species: Kobold

Of the three dragonkin species, the kobolds are by far the most amiable. These small draconids have survived for centuries by banding together and facing overwhelming challenges together, rather than by the strength of their own arm. They are also quite clever with their hands, and are adept at rigging traps, disarming dangers and playing instruments. For this reason, it is not uncommon to see a Kobold embrace a life as a joyful support bard, and maneuver-heavy fighter, a saboteur artificer, or a utility cleric.

While legend states that the Kobolds were originally made as a silly approximation of the Dragonborns, Kobolds consider this to be a misunderstanding of Thaestol's intent. The Dragonborns are a solitary, driven species, and are satisfied to fight to the top their entire lives. The Kobolds consider themselves a good-natured jab at their kin, or even a correction, depending on how far one wants to take it. After all, are we not stronger together than we are on our own?

These scaly individuals glory in the little things, and consequentially, their art is often simple, yet packed to the gills with joyful exuberance. A favorite wineskin on a weathered marble pedestal, which is only swigged from on the most momentous of occasions. A crude painting of one's grandmother, lit with brightly-colored candles and encrusted with powdered gems. A rock. You know, *that* rock. Your cousin threw it at you, but it hit a tree and bounced back, clacking aginst *his* snout. It was joyful! It was momentous! It's art to you.

Why play a Kobold? Joyful, chaotic, and supportive to a fault, this will make you the glue of your campaign, which is what every party needs.

Related Documentation: Holts, Dens and Occupied Mines
Species: Aarakocra

Tall and regal, most Aarakocra resemble birds of prey, though a few have been seen that resemble other larger birds as well. While they can be found rarely in any major cities (and even do quite well for themselves in the wild), the largest population of Aarakocra are found in the barony of Cielgaard. This city, made by avians and for avians, is perfectly suited to the lifestyle of the Aarakocra, to an extent that non-winged beings have a hard time getting around.

Being the larger of the three avian species found in Meradyne, Aarakocra are far scrappier than their owlin and kenku cousins, and are more prone to direct confrontation than subversive tactics. Those that enroll in the Military Academy in the distant barony of Hexiun generally find themselves to be adept scouts, ranger and fighters, and those with magical abilities generally acquire them through sorcerous origins.

Artistically speaking, the subtler things are lost on most of these magnificent avians, who prefer to dress garishly and dance dramatically. Some do take up painting or even weaving, but arts that require vast amounts of heat, or the long-suffering transformation of a medium, such as sculpting, are generally left to other species.

Why should you play an Aarkocra? For the fashion, darling. And for the flight. The Everlode can be quite punishing on the earthbound and unaware.

Related Document: The Tears of Deinya
The Founding of the Lighthouse

"There, in the gentle caress of autumn, year 438, the eastern marches of the grand duchy began to fade. The greens turned to browns, the browns turned to grey, and eventually, from a great rift sprang the Gradinet, the Bleaching of the Lands. Many of the Arcaneum Corps lost their will to live that day, psychically leeched to the point of despair. Finally, when the primary invading forces of pale, horrid creatures were expelled from the land or driven back into the rift, all drew a shuddering sigh of relief. They knew not how many waves of grim invaders would need to be dealt with, or if the first attack was merely a test of the defenders' strength. As a council was being held by Copperfist Stoker, a tremendous quaking began, and the repelling party prepared for another round of physical and mental combat.

"Yet no assault came. Instead, a great crystalline dragon erupted from the earth, its tremendous body encircling the camp. It peered into the mind of Copperfist, and saw a spirit of fire and a sense of humor. 'Hail, Copperfist,' spoke the dragon, crystal shard mist falling from its great nostrils. 'I am Ceiles Aures, conduit appointed by the Fading Father. I have come to aid you when aid is most needed, for this incursion my lord did not intend. Pray retreat and allow me to work a wonder.'

"Not one to crack wise at an adult dragon, Copperfist Stoker called a retreat. Upon clearing the area, Ceiles Aures began to race in a circle, growing ever tighter with each revolution, until in the midst of the great dragon had risen a tremendous tower of clear crystal. She then took to the air, and exhaled a great burst of radiant fire into the top of the new lighthouse. She then returned to the ground, alighting in front of the impressed and terrified Stoker.

"'My good dwarf, a great bulwark has now been founded agains the enemy, yet defenders are still needed. I have just sent the Grand Duke my recommendation that you hold the title of Marquis over these perilous lands, indomitable of mind and body as you are. He has accepted my offer. Guard these lands well, Marquis Stoker. Now I must return to my charge in the north.'

"With that, the great dragon burrowed once again into the earth, leaving the awestruck party in silence."

-This is the only account in existence that regards the creation of the lighthouse. I find a few of the details fantastical, but The River assures me it is the nonsense that lends it the most credence. This may as well be the story, as every time anyone asks Marquis Markus Stoker about the event, he embellishes it a little more each time. Completely incredible, that dwarf.

*Recorded by Aurivit, Water-Caller of the Bestimmiri*.
Favor of Sanguine Purity

Through your service to an entity of some power, you have received a favor, which is a lesser blessing or boon.

This particular favor revitalizes your blood and vitality, granting you 1d10 temporary hit points per day upon waking, for four days. These temporary hit points are not additive; if you gain temporary hit points due to a new effect, or by waking up the next day under the influence of this favor, the new temporary hit points replace the existing temporary hit points.
Writ of Amnesty for Razg-Nashr of the Tritons

This decree serves as a writ of amnesty for the Triton known as Razg-Nashr, Tribune of the Third Legion. Her exemplary service and cunning in battle have proven invaluable to the Grand Duchy, as well as for Hexiun itself. Therefore, by the power granted me by the Grand Duke himself, I expunge Razg-Nashr's crimes, and decree her an innocent soul upon the soil of the Grand Duchy of Meradyne, and promote her to the rank of Centurion of Hexiun.

Signed,

Questor Yullian Cyprian, Minister of the Hexiun Divinity Company

The nineteenth of Final Harvest, the year 467.
Way of the Heart of Stone

### Beloved of the Dao

This fighting style, perfected by the Dao, is only taught to those trusted among their number. While non-Dao instructors can teach this fighting method, and can even do so without the Dao's approval, such a breach of etiquette is a great offense to the mighty folk, and they will likely exact their revenge on the renegade master with shocking alacrity. This fighting style features strong, well supported moves that wrack a foe with maximum-force blows, sending them reeling.

### Earth Aspected

As one communes with the earth, the earth tends to infuse with the person, manifesting in crystals breaching the skin in places, stone crowning on the knuckles, and gems intermixing with the irises. Perhaps most notable is that these changes don't detriment the student, but rather reinforce them. Many Heart of Stone monks are confused with the Golembornes known as Earth Genasi, exhibiting similar characteristics, yet retaining their original skin tone or fur qualities.

### Child of Stone

At 3rd level, your attunement with the earth grants you a certain amount of agency. On your turn, you may use your movement to burrow through the earth; you gain a burrowing speed equal to your walking speed. You are required to end your turn above ground. Additionally, you cannot be forced to move against your will. You may still be compelled to move under the effects of charm or fear.

### Cousin of the Petrix

Additionally, at 3rd level you have learned to infuse your defenses with your mineral manifestations; when you use your Patient Defense Ki feature, you also gain resistance to Slashing, Cold, Acid and Poison damage types until the start of your next turn.

### Rooted in Stone

Starting at 6th level, your affinity with the roots of the great mountains has granted you resistance to force damage, able to shrug off all but the most forceful blows. In addition, you may cast the Meld Into Stone spell as an action at a cost of 4 Ki points.

### Jaws of the Mountain

The earth itself now bows to your will to an extent, willing to aid you in battle. Starting at 11th level, you may spend Ki points to attempt the following:

***Earth Tremor.*** As a bonus action, you may spend 2 Ki point to attempt to knock all creatures within a 10ft radius prone; each creature must make a Dexterity Saving Throw against your Ki Save DC or be knocked prone. Creature immune to prone cannot be effected by this.

***Swallowing Fissure.*** As an action, you may spend 7 Ki points to attempt to restrain a target within 5ft of you in place until the end of your next turn. The target must succeed on a Charisma Saving Throw against your Ki save DC, or be engulfed by the earth and restrained until the end of your next turn.

### One With the Land

17th Level: One with the earth. Can spend an action and 14 Ki points to attempt to petrify the target. The target must succeed on a Constitution Saving Throw against your Ki save DC, or be petrified for one minute. Targets with more than half their health roll this save with advantage.
Sciminik's Forgotten Blend

Nobody has been able to recreate Sciminik's Amber. The intelligent species of the realm have found ways to recreate almost all of the great Firbolg Masters' shades, or at least close approximations of them, but *infuriatingly enough*, Sciminik's legendary amber tone remains firmly out of reach. I know this is an extremely difficult task to give anyone, even an artisan of your stature, but the lady Baroness simply must have access to it.

That said, I do not wish to chuck you to the artistic wolves unarmed- I myself have done some interviews and cursory examinations regarding this most legendary of tones, and here are my findings:

Firstly, pursue neither medicinal barks or feces; the scent of the paint is known to be neither herbal nor foul. While some claim it to have the faint scent of cinnamon, I find the next point to explain that nicely.

The next point being, it most certainly contains magical reagents, specifically of the enchantment and conjuration fields. The color is not simply beautiful, but *evokes* beautiful thoughts from the viewer. Thoughts of home, of beloved family, of fields of grain, of the warmth of the noon sun touching one's back in early spring... I digress. But all that to say, look to the arcane.

And finally, Sciminik didn't roam far to get the ingredients. And as the individual lived south of Siolynburgh, I would recommend starting there. But do not stray far! If you stumble upon Ironpines, neither god nor fellow can help you.

I trust this most lucrative of missions into your capable hands. If you should produce a sample of the blend, I would buy it off of you for a fortune, though you may also retain your rights to it if you please, in which case, I will simply make regular purchases from you.

Best of luck, Hissantia!

Regards,

Caluard, Magister under the flag of Straussendor, by the grace of her lady Baroness Fralia Herriman.

*A letter of commission from Magister Caluard to Hissantia, a lizardfolk herbalist and blendmaster in the Artisanal University Annex.*